


Take Me Back To The Start

by thingcalledlove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Angst and Humor, College Student Stiles, Derek Hale makes a really horrible celebrity, Dubious Consent, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Pack Feels, Panic Attacks, Slow Burn, actor!derek, invasion of privacy/voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:49:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 26,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingcalledlove/pseuds/thingcalledlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek had never intended to be named People’s Sexiest Man Alive. It just sort of happens. </p><p>[Or, in which Derek stumbles into stardom, becoming the next big thing and Stiles somehow stumbles (read: gets pushed unwillingly by the rest of the pack) into the role of Derek's PR boyfriend.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Coldplay's The Scientist.

Derek had never intended to be name People’s Sexiest Man Alive. It just sort of happens. 

Much like everything else in his life these days. 

“Oh, this is amazing,” Erica says happily, chomping down on her apple. Boyd stands beside her, leaning against the marble top island in the middle of the kitchen. His expression is neutral for the most part, but Derek can see the slight upward curl of his lip. 

Their amusement is giving him a headache. He turns his attention to his uncle Peter instead, who sits at the table with his laptop open in front of him. Unlike Boyd, Peter isn’t even putting in the effort to hide his glee. 

“Are you sure you read the e-mail correctly?” Derek bemoans. 

“Oh, absolutely,” Peter replies with a smirk, “I’ve read this e-mail several times, and the words have yet to change. You, my dear nephew, are this year’s Sexiest Man Alive, according to People magazine.”

Derek groans, burying his head in his hands. He can’t understand why this is happening to him. The stupid vampire and werewolf movie he signed on for was supposed to kill his career, not add to his ever growing fame. 

“I told you not to do that movie, man,” Boyd points out unhelpfully as if he knows exactly what Derek is thinking. Derek glares at him, but it doesn’t have the desired effect. He feels like this whole thing has made him go soft. He makes a mental note to squeeze in a pack training session between all his other obligations. That might help wipe the smiles of their faces he thinks bitterly. 

“How was I supposed to know that it would become such a hit?” Derek grumbles, “The writing was horrible, the plot was horrible, and the main actress has the personality of a cardboard box.”

If Derek had known that _Vampire Rising_ would turn out to be the biggest movie of the year, he would never have signed on for it. 

In theory, it had been an excellent idea, as most things usually are. As soon as Peter had passed him the script and told him the premise, Derek knew he couldn’t go wrong with it. The whole idea had already been done to death as it was. The script was dreadful, and there was absolutely zero original content. It was basically every other vampire vs. werewolf movie that ever been made rolled up into one. The movie was doomed to fail from the start. 

Except, it hadn’t. 

Instead, it had exploded on a global scale, and Derek found himself being thrust further into the spotlight as opposed to away from it like he had originally planned. 

To make matters even worse, when Derek had signed the contract, he was so sure the movie would fail, that he didn’t give too much thought to section that stated that he would also be signing on for two more movies in the series if the studio chose to produce them. 

“Well, at least you’re done finally filming the second part,” Erica says consolingly, even though there is a devious smile plastered on her face. It’s no secret that she enjoys his pain. 

“I’m going upstairs,” Derek says with a frown. He pushes his chair back from the table and heads towards the staircase.

“Pack meeting in two hours,” Peter reminds him cheekily as he’s half way up the stairs.

* * * * *

Derek flops down on his bed ungracefully, looking out the wall of windows that show him the forest beyond them. He appreciates the view, and he’s glad he found a house so close to the forest for the sake of his pack, but Beverly Hills is nothing compared to Beacon Hills.

He never did intend on becoming an actor. It’s not like it’s something he enjoys immensely, but it keeps him busy, and the pack seems to love all the perks it involves.

Grudgingly, Derek admits that he doesn’t exactly hate the Lamborghini Reventón parked in the garage next to his Camaro. And it is nice to be able to provide his betas with anything they ask for, not to mention keeping them fed, which can be quite costly. 

Still, the lack of privacy grates on his every nerve. He hates not being able to go out in public without a hoard of cameras being shoved in his face. He’s not a fan of their invasive questions either. It’s a hassle to make sure his eyes don’t flare up during the pictures. The last thing he needs is the attention of another group of Hunters. Not when he finally managed to get the Argents off his back. 

He curses himself for letting the packs goading get to him all those years ago. To think all this started because a stranger had walked up to him and had given him his card, telling him he had a certain look. 

Derek would never have called the guy if it hadn’t been for the pack’s nonstop teasing. No one really thought the guy was for real, so it was surprise to everyone when Derek had gotten contracted to do an underwear ad for Calvin Klein. Derek had only done it to be contrary, and it paid pretty well. He hadn’t seen much of a downside at the time. He could brood in front of a camera in his underwear and get paid for it, no problem. 

It kind of snowballed from there. The underwear ad led to a small walk on role for a fairly popular show, which led to some commercials, which led to co-starring in an Indy movie, each project being bigger than the last. It got to the point where Derek had enlisted Peter to be his manager, mostly because the rest of his pack were still in their senior year of high school at the time. Derek hadn’t expected Peter to take it and just run with it the way he had. 

In the six years since, Derek has pretty much gone from being a nobody to becoming a household name. People even go as far as to use his tragic past to explain away his brooding and lack of enthusiasm in the handful of interviews he is forced to do. If anything, it has made him even more appealing to women and men, all who see him as the bad boy, who is really just broken on the inside and in need of some love. His eyes will probably roll right out of his head if he has to read that particular line ever again. It is amazing the shit the media can come up with at a second’s notice Derek thinks.

Even in the six thousand square foot house, Derek can make out the conversations of the rest of his pack. Peter seems to have moved from the kitchen to his office, where he’s most likely on the phone with Derek’s agent. 

Sometime in the past little while, Allison, Scott and Isaac must have come in, because he can hear Allison in the kitchen with Erica discussing some new PR strategy. Derek rolls his eyes and tunes them out. Ever since Erica graduated high school, she declared herself his personal assistant/stylist/PR rep, because “Everyone who is anyone in this industry has one.”

Derek would complain, but even he can admit she does hell of a job. Erica and Allison put together can practically smooth over any situation and given his stiff personality, he’s managed to offend his fair share of people in this business. It doesn’t help that he barely recognizes half of them, even now. 

The worst though, may have been his acceptance speech for when he won a Critics Choice Award for his first big role, which consisted of him getting up and saying, “Uh...thanks, I guess,” before walking off the stage. That one had kept the girls busy for days, but it made him a YouTube sensation as Stiles would gleefully point out later. 

Derek groans into his pillow. He’s probably the only person in the world who can fail their way into success.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Derek gets downstairs, the pack is already assembled in the Den, pun totally intended. 

The Den is located at the back of the house, which means that like Derek’s bedroom, it contains a wall of windows that look out into the woods beyond. Another wall is covered in grey stones, with a grand fireplace in the center. Mounted above the fireplace is a flat screen TV, where Derek sees Lydia, Jackson and Danny skyping in from Boston. 

“Well the gangs all here,” Stiles says from his spot sprawled out on Derek’s favourite recliner. He smiles sheepishly in his UCLA sweatshirt, the drawstrings in his mouth, but makes no move to, well, move. Derek scowls at him, but settles down beside Isaac on the slightly less comfortable couch. 

Scott sits on the thick rug that covers a good portion of the floor with Boyd, playing quarters, though there is no alcohol in sight. Not that it would actually work on werewolves. Peter is perched on an armchair in the corner of the room, typing away on his tablet, playing no attention to anyone else present. Erica and Allison stand in front of the screen, talking avidly to Lydia, who looks incredibly amused about something. 

Derek shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s starting to get a bad feeling about this. The three of them together never leads to anything good. 

“Alright, let’s get this started,” Derek snaps. Unlike them, he’s actually on a tight schedule. Plus, it makes him feel good to be in control of something. 

“Congratulations on the new title,” Stiles teases, a crooked smile on his face. Stiles is probably the most likely of the pack to give him shit about this kind of stuff. 

“Shut up,” Derek retorts. He has almost managed to forget about that. 

“But seriously,” Stiles continues, as if Derek hasn’t even spoken, “Can we talk about how you fail at failing? I mean seriously. That movie was brutal, and most critics agree that if it hadn’t been for your performance, it would have failed miserably. You took on that role to sabotage your own career, but you ended up breathing life into a dying franchise.” 

Derek huffs, levelling Stiles with a deadly look. 

Stiles still looks incredibly amused, but he closes his mouth, in the first act of self-preservation Derek has ever seen the boy employ. Though boy might not be the right word anymore considering Stiles is 23 now, and he definitely looks it. Well when he’s not chewing on his sweatshirt that is. 

Derek looks away; because the last thing he needs right now is to focus on is Stiles and his oral fixation. There are more pressing matters at the moment. 

“Pack meeting,” Derek stresses slowly, “Which means we talk about the pack.”

“Everything seems fine,” Scott pipes up from the floor, “Isaac and I did a run around the area earlier, and other than a few paps lurking around, there isn’t much to be concerned about.” 

“What about the ‘wolf sightings’?” Peter asks setting the tablet down to make air quotes around the words. 

Derek had forgotten all about that. A few weeks ago, a number of people in the neighbourhood had reported seeing and hearing wolves in the area. There are no actual wolves in the woods, but the pack had been a little more careless than usual that night, and hadn’t used the same precautions that they usually used. The last thing Derek wants is to attract any attention to his pack out here. 

“It’s been taken care of,” Boyd replies nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. Derek doesn’t question it. Boyd is his right hand man, and if Boyd says that something has been taken care of, then Derek trusts that it has been.

“Okay,” Erica claps, “Now that we’ve dealt with wolf business, let’s talk about a new PR strategy I have come up with.”

Derek isn’t the only one that groans. 

“Shut up,” Erica commands, hands on her hips, looking dangerous, “This is important. People are starting to talk, and we have ignored the issue long enough.”

Derek can feel his heart dropping in his chest. There is no way he is about to like this, “What issue?”

“Your...” Erica trails off, looking for the right words, “relationship issue.”

“I don’t have relationship issues,” Derek deadpans, “I don’t have relationships.”

“Exactly!” Erica exclaims, stamping her foot down on the hardwood floor that isn’t covered by the rug, “It’s been six years, and you have never been in a relationship. How can the _Sexiest Man Alive_ not have been seriously linked with anyone? People are starting to talk. We don’t want that. If people start digging into your past, Derek, it could be dangerous for the pack.” 

“Hey, I was linked with that girl, Danika whatsherface,” Derek says in his own defence. 

He hates that Erica just played the pack card, because it’s pretty much the only thing that will get him onboard with this absurd plan. Not that he’s totally onboard yet. There has to be another solution. 

“Yeah, for like two days,” Erica counters, “You went on Leno, remember? And when he asked you about it, you said, and I quote ‘who the fuck is Danika’?”

“How did you not know who Danika Colt is?” Stiles asks, shaking his head in disappointment, “I mean I would die a very happy man if Danika so much as smiled at me.”

“Me too,” Scott sighs wistfully, until a pillow comes flying at his head. He looks up at Allison sheepishly, “I mean, after you of course.” 

“Of course,” Allison replies sarcastically. 

“Excuse me,” Lydia pipes up through the TV screen, “I have things I need to do, so can we just keep this moving along.” 

“The point I’m trying to make,” Erica cuts in, “is that you need to date someone.”

Derek glares at her. They’ve been over this several times already. Derek’s main priority is and has always been the pack. He is their Alpha, and though he has made more than his fair share of mistakes, he still tries to do the best he can. Everything else is second to that, including his sham of a Hollywood career. 

If he was to be completely honest with himself, he knows the underlying issue is fear. At the hands of, Kate he was manipulated, which cost him a majority of his family and a lot of himself. The guilt alone is still rooted deep within him. The idea of actually dating someone, after everything he’s already been through, is a daunting thought. It’s not the physical that terrifies him, because he’s had plenty of one-night stands, especially since his career took off. No the physical stuff he can handle, it’s the emotional stuff he can’t go through again. He doesn’t want to allow himself to become attached to another person the way he became attached to Kate. She destroyed him, because he let her. 

He already lost one pack. He’s not going to lose another one.

“No,” he answers simply. He’ll figure something else out to protect the pack and their secrets, but it will not be at the hands of another person worming their way into his life. Not again. 

“Hear me out,” Erica pleads, “I’m not talking about a real relationship. I’m thinking more along the lines of a PR relationship. All you have to do is been seen with another person, let the media makes their assumptions and what not. Maybe attend the _Vampire Rising 2_ premiere together next month, and then break up a few weeks after that.”

“I already spend half my life pretending to be someone I’m not,” Derek answers slowly, “I won’t let yet another person become tangled up in this mess. I’m not going to let someone in my life, real or not, and expose the pack to them.”

“That’s the beauty of it though,” Erica says with a devilish smile, “You won’t have to expose the pack to anyone, because your PR relationship will be with a pack member.”

“This just got really good, really quick,” Peter chirps in from his corner, making Derek roll his eyes.

“Are you offering Erica?” Derek asks sarcastically.

“Obviously not,” Erica scoffs, “I’m with Boyd.”

“Well, Scott and Allison are together, so it can’t be them. Same goes for Jackson and Lydia,” Derek points out, “Which leaves Danny, Isaac and Stiles.”

“It’s a good thing we left your sexuality ambiguous then, isn’t it,” Lydia says with a smirk that mirrors Erica’s. 

“It can’t be me,” Isaac says, adding his two cents, “I mean, I’d have no problem with it, but the media already looks at me like your little brother. It would be weird.”

This is true, Derek agrees silently. Peter has made sure to air out some of Derek’s good deeds to get him a more positive reception among the media, and one of the stories that Peter has made sure had gotten out was that Derek had taken a sixteen year old Isaac in, after his abusive father had been found dead. 

“I would love to do it,” Danny says, his voice crackling over the speakers, “But I have school, and this Masters program is pretty demanding. I wouldn’t be able to fly down to LA very often, and it seems kind of pointless of having you fly out to Boston for the sake of a picture or two. I don’t think the story would hold up very well with so much distance between us.”

Derek can admit that this is a little disappointing. Not that he wants a PR boyfriend or anything, but if he had to have one, Danny would have been fantastic. He’s charming, sweet and pretty good looking. He can also admit that Danny has a point. There is also the issue of people becoming too interested in Danny, and digging up his past, which is not a good thing. Derek prefers to keep Danny’s special assets to the pack hidden from the public. 

“That leaves Stiles,” Scott points out helpfully.

“No, it can’t be me,” Stiles says, waving his arms around as if to make a point, “Because of reasons.”

Derek looks at him, and then back to Erica, “It can’t be Stiles.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Stiles says with a frown, “Why can’t it be Stiles?”

“You just said it couldn’t be you,” Derek sighs as if this conversation is taking years off his life. 

“Yeah, but the way you said it, dude, like even if I was the last person on earth, it still wouldn’t be me,” Stiles is full out frowning now, “I’m freaking awesome, haven’t you got the memo? I would be like the greatest PR boyfriend anyone could ever ask for. I am adorable.”

“You’re not my type,” Derek deadpans.

“I am everyone’s type,” Stiles protests adamantly, “Besides, haven’t you heard the saying about opposites attracting? I would totally balance out your frowny faces with my sunny disposition. If we were the carebears, you would be grumpy, and I would be motherfucking funshine.”

“See, Derek, Stiles would be perfect. All in favour raise your hands,” Erica asks. Everyone with the exception of Derek and Stiles raise their hands. Peter raises both of his. “Perfect, it has been decided. You’re going to be on Ellen in a few days, and you know she’s going to ask about your relationship status, so that’s when you should make the big announcement.”

Derek opens his mouth to argue, but then closes it. He learned a long time ago to pick his battles with Erica, and this doesn’t seem like one that would be worth the effort. After all, he can handle a few weeks of pretend dating Stiles. 

He turns slightly to look over at Stiles who looks paler than usual, which makes Derek pause for a second. Maybe he should fight Erica on this, because the last thing he wants to do is force a relationship, fake or not, on an unwilling participant, even if that person is Stiles, the bane of his existence. 

Then Stiles meets his eyes, and sort of just shrugs at him in a ‘what can you do’ kind of way, giving him the barest hint of a smile. It goes a long way to sooth down the feeling of discomfort brewing deep within Derek. 

“Everyone in the woods in five minutes,” Derek says suddenly, in an attempt to gain control of the situation, “We’re going to have a mandatory training session. Allison and Stiles included. I would suggest wearing layers, because you’re all going to be rolling around in the mud soon.”

Maybe he should play a super villain in his next movie, Derek ponders silently, since he does get a kick out being a sadistic asshole at times. He makes a mental note to talk to Peter about it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome! Thanks so much for all the feedback and the reads and the subscriptions and everything. It means the world to me. I hope this chapter wasn't a let down! I'd love to know what you thought of it.
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcomed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my beta Diane, who made this chapter 100x better than it initially was.

Stiles chews on his pen absentmindedly, his laptop open in front of him with pages and pages of handwritten notes sprawled across the desk. He knows that his focus should be on his Master’s Thesis because, well, _Master’s Thesis_. 

It doesn’t stop his eyes from scanning down towards the bottom of the screen to glance at the time. He runs his fingers through his hair because, unlike high school, he actually keeps his hair long. Well, long compared to buzz cut standards. 

He throws the pen down, emitting a few choice swear words. He pushes away from the desk. There is no way he can focus on this when in, he glances at the clock again, seven minutes Derek Hale is about to come out publically. Live. On Ellen. 

He leaves his bedroom and heads towards the living room, flopping down on the couch and turning the TV on. 

The two bedroom apartment he shares with Scott and Allison is incredibly small, but it serves its purpose. The living room is the biggest room in the place, which is good, since the pack tends to hang out here when they get tired of Derek’s. It works for Stiles because UCLA is a couple minutes away walking distance. It’s also close enough to Allison’s and Scott’s jobs. Their real jobs, not the jobs they voluntarily do to “help” Derek. 

Even thinking of him makes Stiles’ heart drop in his chest, and he’s not sure it’s in the good way either. He’s not even sure why he agreed to this stupid idea, and more so, he can’t figure out why he didn’t fight it very hard. The last thing he needs is to be Derek’s PR boyfriend, but he felt something inside of him clench when Derek had written him off so quickly, and he really didn’t want to think too hard about what it was. 

He turns his attention back to the TV when he sees Ellen’s smiling face come on. Stiles actually kind of feels sorry for her because he knows for a fact that Derek has never been on Ellen before, and even a blind person can see they’re complete opposites in their demeanours. 

He watches her dancing around and being generally happy. When she sits down, she tells the audience how special this show is and how it’s one of the very few shows that they’ll be filming live. 

Stiles already knows how difficult it was to get the Ellen show to agree to do a live show with Derek, but it was one of Erica’s only demands. If Derek was going to be making this announcement on air, it had to be done live, so that the secret wouldn’t get out amongst the studio audience days prior of the air date. Erica wanted this to be massive. 

They had finally relented when Erica explained how they would be the first and only ones who Derek would make this announcement to. Erica had promised huge ratings, and Derek could deliver them. And though it was being filmed and aired live, the two sides had come to a compromise so that there would be a two minute tape-delay, specifically to edit out any careless remarks that Derek is sure to make. 

Ellen starts talking about today’s line up, including the other guests, because no one in their right mind would put Derek on air live for a full hour. Not after reviewing his previous talk show history. 

Stiles is actually dying to go visit Derek on set some day because he wants to know what possesses people to continue to give Derek parts. He is unbearable at the best of times, and that’s around pack. Stiles can’t even begin to imagine the nightmare he must be around strangers.

As the show goes on, Stiles almost forgets why he was even watching it in the first place. It has been a while since he just lounged on a couch by himself and watched TV. It is nice. 

“All right, I think you’ve all waited long enough,” Ellen teases, standing up to beam up at her audience. Stiles jerks forward a bit, butterflies fluttering in his chest. He wants to just turn the TV off and go back to his room, but he’s frozen in place. He knows that this is going to be horrible, but for the life of him, he can’t stop watching.

“Please welcome People’s Sexiest Man Alive, Derek Hale!” Ellen announces. The music turns up and the second that Derek is in view, the entire place explodes with screams. Stiles actually jumps, fumbling for the remote to turn down the volume. The camera zooms in on Derek’s emotionless face. Stiles can see the slight twitch in his jaw. The noise must be murder to his sensitive wolfy ears. It’s enough to make Stiles cringe in sympathy. 

Derek looks stiff as a board as he walks (not dances) over to the couch; he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans with a white t-shirt and a black blazer. Stiles knows immediately that Erica had a massive part in getting Derek out of his Henleys and leather jackets. 

When Derek reaches Ellen he shakes her hand before sitting down, pretty much ignoring the entire crowd. He doesn’t so much as nod at them in acknowledgement. His eyes seem to be focused solely on Ellen as she sits down in her own spot. 

“Well, Derek, it’s nice to finally have you on the show,” Ellen says enthusiastically. 

“Nice to be here,” Derek responds, doing his best attempt at a smile. Stiles rolls his eyes because he knows that Derek can be downright charming when he wants to be. He has the kind of smile that makes people just want to drop their panties, boxers, and just about everything else. 

“I guess I should congratulate you on the success you’ve seen in the past few years, especially with _Vampire Rising_ becoming the summer sleeper of the year. Or should I say international summer sleeper? I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say this movie has turned you into a global household name,” Ellen says brightly, and Stiles can tell that she really wants this interview to work. 

“Yeah, thanks,” Derek replies, and after a brief pause, “I never thought it would do that well.”

Stiles snorts at the underlying joke that no one but the pack will understand. 

Once Ellen realizes that’s all she’s going to get from Derek, she jumps into the next question, “ _Vampire Rising 2_ is coming out next month, I believe. Is there anything you can tell us about what’s going to happen? Is your character Pax going to be seen as the real hero in the story?”

“Not really,” Derek deadpans. This is once again followed by a brief silence. Stiles can see Derek looking over at something or someone beside the cameraman. For a moment, his face contorts into an expression of pure annoyance, but then the mask is back in place. He turns his attention back to Ellen, planting a big fake smile on his face. Stiles can practically hear him grinding his teeth from here. “I’m not really allowed to talk about it. Like you said before, the first...film...turned into an unexpected hit, and the second one is highly anticipated. We’ve been instructed to keep quiet on the details for now, though they will be releasing the official trailer next week.”

If Ellen, like Stiles, is shocked at how much Derek has just spoken, she doesn’t show it, unlike him, who has his mouth hanging open, slack-jawed. He closes it with an audible click. That’s the most Derek has said in an interview _ever _and Stiles would know since he gets a perverse kind of joy in finding Derek’s interviews on YouTube and making fun of him the first chance he gets.__

__“In the first film, we saw the beginnings of a relationship between your character Pax and the character of Emma, even though she’s technically dating your character’s mortal enemy, West. Is your real love life that complicated?” Ellen inquires with a grin._ _

__“Not at all,” Derek answers with a tiny grin of his own._ _

__“Single?” Ellen prompts. The crowd starts screaming again, and Stiles can see Derek’s smirk widening slightly._ _

__“I didn’t say that,” Derek responds casually, “I just said it wasn’t complicated.”_ _

__Which is a total lie, Stiles thinks, because there is no way for this to be more complicated than it already is._ _

__“So who’s the lucky girl?” Ellen asks before teasingly adding, “or guy?”_ _

__“Guy,” Derek agrees, looking like a smug little bastard as everyone goes silent. For a second, Stiles thinks he hit mute, because that’s how silent it gets. Even Ellen looks a little taken aback at the confession. Derek on the other hand looks like he’s actually enjoying himself for the first time since the interview began. He looks almost relaxed._ _

__“Asshole,” Stiles mutters to himself, but he can’t keep the stupid grin off his own face as the crowd starts screaming again. Ellen rebounds back quickly, pouncing on this new line of questioning._ _

__“Anyone we know?” She asks coyly._ _

__“Unfortunately not,” Derek answers, “Stiles isn’t in the business. He’s actually a grad student at UCLA.”_ _

__“Stiles,” Ellen repeats, “Interesting name.”_ _

__“He’s an interesting guy,” Derek retorts with a shrug as he leans back into the chair._ _

__“How long have you guys been together?”_ _

__“We’ve known each other for quite some time now,” Derek evades._ _

__Ellen turns her attention back to the camera. “Well, Stiles, if you’re watching this, you are one lucky guy.”_ _

__Stiles can feel the blood rushing to his ears. They’re probably bright pink with embarrassment. It all kind of hits him like a ton of bricks at that moment. This just happened, and now the world knows._ _

__“Fuck!” he exclaims, shutting off the TV before Ellen can say farewell to Derek. He can feel the beginning of a panic attack as the enormity of the situation hits him. He agreed to be Derek’s boyfriend, and now he can’t take it back. It’s done. It happened. He wonders why he so stupidly agreed to this ridiculous idea._ _

__He continues to pace back and forth, controlling his breathing as he goes until he can feel the attack receding before it has a chance to take hold. Once he feels certain that he is in control of himself, he goes into his bedroom._ _

__His cell phone lies on the bed, the light blinking. He picks it up to see a text from Scott:_ _

__**Dude, Derek just broke the Internet.** _ _

__Curiosity killed the cat, and Stiles is sure that one day, it will kill him too, but that doesn’t stop him from typing ‘Derek Hale’ into the Twitter search bar._ _

__Stiles is immediately overwhelmed by the number of tweets that keep coming through. The tweets range from good to bad to downright ugly. He exits out quickly because he’s not sure if he can stomach the homophobic tweets coming through. Although small in number, they are extremely vulgar and no one deserves to have things like that said about them._ _

__Stiles already knows that Derek won’t look twice at those tweets, and that they won’t affect him the way they affect Stiles. Derek has always made it clear that the only opinions that matter to him are the opinions of his pack. He couldn’t give a shit about what other people are saying about him. Stiles on the other hand takes those insults extremely personally on behalf of Derek, even though he knows he shouldn’t. It’s just that Derek doesn’t deserve it and it infuriates Stiles that people can be so fucking ignorant._ _

__His phone starts ringing, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looks down at the screen and pales significantly, his anger just draining out of him._ _

__He doesn’t even get the chance to say hello before he’s interrupted._ _

__“When were you planning on telling me about your relationship with Derek Hale?”_ _

__“Hey, Dad, “Stiles says sheepishly, “About that...”_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcomed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Diane for beta-ing this chapter for me and working her magic on it.

“Well...” the Sheriff prompts, “I’m waiting.”

Stiles can almost picture the look of incredulity that is probably on his father’s face at this very moment. He paces the cramped room, wracking his brain for an answer to the incredibly loaded question.

He settles on, “It’s complicated.”

“Un-complicate it,” the Sheriff replies easily.

“Wait a minute,” Stiles says as he freezes in his movement. He pulls the phone away from his ear to glance down at the number before putting it back to his ear. “You’re calling me from your cell phone.” 

“Your point?” 

“My point is that you’re up to something,” Stiles accuses, “If you were sitting at home watching TV like you usually do when you’re off work, you would have called me from the house phone. But you’re calling me from your _cell_ phone, which means you’re not at home. It also means you’re not at work or on duty because you would never slack off during working hours, and I know you wouldn’t have heard about the whole Derek thing if you were working. You’re not that in touch with things. No offense.”

The Sheriff huffs, making it clear he does take offense to that statement, but Stiles is on a roll now, so he ignores it and just keeps going, “So this means you’re off duty, but not at home. But you are at _someone’s_ home because you’re watching Ellen. So where exactly are you, Dad?”

“I think you missed your true calling in life,” the Sheriff responds sarcastically, but he doesn’t attempt to answer the question, which makes Stiles even more curious. 

There is a brief, but silent, standoff between the two, and it’s the Sheriff that sighs in defeat. “If you must know, I’m at Melissa’s.”

“Melissa McCall?” Stiles asks, his eyebrows rising ever so slightly.

“Yes.”

“Scott’s Mom, Melissa McCall.” This time it’s not so much of a question as it is a statement of disbelief.

“No, Stiles,” the Sheriff deadpans, “The other Melissa McCall who lives in Beacon Hills.”

“It was just a question, Sheriff Sassypants,” Stiles chides. “But...uh, you two have been hanging out a lot lately. Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Look, Stiles, it’s just nice to be able to talk to someone about...” He trails off, but Stiles knows exactly what he’s referring too. Werewolves. 

Stiles’ father found out about that little secret back in Stiles’ junior year of high school, when he ended up in the hospital due to some tenacious little pixies. Disney was completely wrong on that one, by the way. Tinkerbell is a saint compared to those vicious things. But still, having his ass handed to him by a pixie of all things was still a little embarrassing and something he preferred not to talk about. _Ever_.

“But the issue at hand right now isn’t what Melissa and I do in our spare time,” the Sheriff reminds him. And yeah, Stiles has to stick his tongue out in disgust at that little visual because he doesn’t want to think about what his dad does with members of the opposite sex in his spare time. Especially when said member of the opposite sex is his best friend’s mom. The same mom who made them look through pages and pages of STD pictures when they were 13. No, just no.

“Like I said before, it’s complicated. I’m just doing him a favor of sorts. The less you know the better really,” Stiles says with a sigh, “Look, if you don’t trust Derek, that’s fine, but at least trust me.”

“I trust Derek just fine,” the Sheriff replies honestly, “It’s the media that surrounds him that I have a problem with. I’ve heard about the lengths that some of these people will go through just to get a picture. Hell, I’ve read the reports. They can be vicious, Stiles, especially considering the fact you’re both men, and before you say anything, I would like to point out that I have absolutely no problem with that, but there are plenty of people that do. In my experience, these types of people will use their anonymity to harass public figures in these situations.” 

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Stiles says, waving it away, though his stomach clenches when he thinks back to the previous Twitter messages he just read. 

The Sheriff just chuckles, “Famous last words, kid.”

* * * * *

Stiles tries to be super aware of his surroundings the next day as he attends classes, but it looks like business as usual. He gets a handful of mildly curious looks from some of his fellow classmates, but Stiles ignores them They lose interest fairly quickly after that. and the class continues on as normal.

As he walks down the sidewalk towards his next class, he mutters to himself about everyone making a mountain out of a molehill. He’ll never admit this out loud, but he’s actually a little disappointed that no one has even bothered to come up to him and ask if he’s _that_ Stiles. It’s not like there are many of them at UCLA. Clearly, Derek isn’t as big of a deal as everyone is making him out to be. The thought cheers him up significantly for some reason as he ambles on towards class. 

It’s dark when he finishes his second class, and though the weather in LA is nice this time of year, the fall nights can be chilly. He pulls his sweatshirt closer to his body and pulls up the hood for extra warmth. 

As soon as he steps off campus, he can feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise slightly. He looks back over his shoulder, but sees nothing unusual. Just a few students finishing up for the day, but none of them pay him any attention. He continues down the path and onto the sidewalk. The walk home is short, but the entire time he feels like he’s being watched. It’s almost a relief when he spots the open 24/7 Laundromat shining like a beacon of safety. The entrance to his apartment above the Laundromat is partially hidden around the corner. He uses his keys to open the first set of doors, then locks them carefully behind him before climbing the stairs to the second door that leads straight into the apartment. It isn’t until he’s inside that he finally starts to feel calm. A few minutes after that, he starts thinking that maybe it was all in his head, but he’s learned to be careful about writing things off that easily. The last time he did that, he got his ass kicked by a pixie. Singular. He’s probably never going to live that down. 

He looks out the kitchen window that looks down over the street. Everything seems to be normal, but he gives Scott a call anyways, telling him to sniff around when he gets home after his shift at the Vet clinic he temps at. He knows that if anything is wrong, Scott’s nose will have a better chance at picking it up.

* * * * *

“Uh, Stiles,” Scott says timidly from the doorway.

Stiles looks up for his work to glance at Scott, “What’s up?”

“Do you know how for the past few days you’ve been saying that you feel like you’re being watched, and I told you that you were being ridiculous and there aren’t any monsters lurking around?”

“So there is a monster?” Stiles counters, sounding unsurprised, because this is his life. 

“Not necessarily,” Scott replies nervously, “Just come have a look for yourself.” 

Stiles follows Scott into the kitchen where Allison is eating breakfast with a small frown on her face. She looks nervous when Stiles walks in, which is definitely rare. Scott is the nervous one; Allison is the rock. 

Scott motions for Stiles to look out the window and he does. His mouth falls open as he pushes the curtains further apart. Outside are about fifty people with cameras all staring up at the building. Even the cars driving down the street seem to slow down as they pass, just to see what is going on. Stiles snaps the curtains shut as soon as one of the paparazzi points excitedly up at the window, aiming his camera in Stiles’ direction. 

“What the hell?” Stiles says, because he’s not sure what else he can say. “How did they find out where I live? I know my address doesn’t show up on my school profile or online anywhere. I made sure of that. I had Danny make sure of that.”

“I bet they’ve been following you from school,” Allison chips in, “You did say you felt like you were being watched.”

“Yeah, but I thought it was just some supernatural creature that wanted to kill me. You know, the usual,” Stiles says, sounding very close to being hysterical. He looks up at the ceiling and shakes his head. This is totally revenge for him wishing something a little more exciting had happened at school, isn’t it? Seriously, his life.

He sinks down into an empty chair across from Allison. Scott very helpfully puts a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon in front of him. “Well, at least it’s the weekend, so you can hole up here until they leave.” Stiles does not appreciate the false cheer in Scott’s voice.

“We should probably tell Derek and Erica,” Allison suggests.

“I’ll bet Erica will be glad to see her plan is working out,” Stiles says bitterly.

“Hey now,” Scott chides, which is...unusual, “It hasn’t worked out the way Erica planned exactly.”

“Why?” Stiles asks, genuinely interested. He’s been spending the last few days working on his thesis and avoiding the Internet. He’s out of the loop in terms of gossip. He’s starting to realize that he’s been a really horrible pretend boyfriend thus far. He hasn’t even checked in on Derek once since this whole thing went down. 

“Apparently, there were two roles Derek was pretty much a shoo-in for, but the producers called Peter this week and told him they had decided to go in a different direction and Derek was out. Even though a contract had already been drawn up for one of them, and filming was scheduled to start next month once Derek signed it.”

“Wait, they fired him because he said he had a boyfriend?” Stiles asks incredulously, anger rushing through him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Scott just shrugs his shoulders in response.

* * * * *

Stiles works on his thesis for another two and half hours before heading back into the kitchen to check the progress of the whole paparazzi situation. Unfortunately, as he glances out the window, he can see the number of reporters and photographers have actually gone up, not down. He knows he’ll never get any work done with them just waiting outside. He hopes they didn’t bother Scott and Allison too much when they left for their lunch date.

He pulls out his cell phone and texts Derek. 

**Paparazzi outside my place. All your fault. Make them go away.**

He doesn’t have to wait long before the phone buzzes in his hand. 

**Be there in 15. Do NOT go outside.**

He wants to text back, telling Derek not to come over, because that would probably make things worse, not better. But even through a text he knows Derek well enough to know Derek isn’t playing around. He probably thinks Stiles is in some sort of danger, which tends to ramp up his Alpha instinct to protect the pack at all costs. 

Fourteen and a half minutes later, Stiles can hear the squealing of tires. He jumps off the couch where he’s watching TV on mute and runs to the window. He can already see the flashes going off behind the closed curtains. He pries them apart enough for one eye to peer out. Derek has parked in the no parking zone in front of the building. He gets out of the shiny black Camaro, ignoring the paparazzi as he walks towards the door. The paparazzi are still snapping pictures like crazy, but they must sense something because they part like the Red Sea to let Derek past. 

The sound goes up another notch when they realize that Derek isn’t knocking on the door, but using his own set of keys to open it. Stiles steps back from the window and walks the few steps to the upstairs entrance. He unlocks the door and opens it. He waits for Derek to finish locking up the downstairs door and come up the stairs. 

Stiles can’t help but notice Derek is back in his usual outfit. A pair of tight dark pants, a navy blue Henley and his leather jacket. He also has a pair of Ray Bans on. 

Derek ignores him and goes straight down the hall and into Stiles’ bedroom, with Stiles following behind curiously. His Alpha is clearly a wolf on a mission, and he knows better than to get in the way. Derek goes over to his desk and closes the open laptop, _without saving_ , and shoves it into his backpack lying on the floor. He proceeds to shove a bunch of the papers inside before bee lining to his closet and shoving a bunch of clothes in the nearest duffle bag. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles says, horrified, ready to make a grab for his backpack and his laptop.

“Packing,” Derek replies, “You’re not staying here until Boyd and Isaac can come over and set up a proper security system.”

“Don’t you think you’re over-reacting?” 

Derek turns to look at him, raising his glasses pointedly to show how extremely red his eyes are. Point made.

Stiles decides to swallow down his next few words, opting to just nod in agreement instead. He can practically feel his back slamming into the nearest wall. Derek clearly isn’t in any mood to argue, and Stiles isn’t in any mood to be impaled by Derek’s claws. 

Derek is in front of him with a purple zip-up hoodie. “Put it on.”

Stiles is not in a position to refuse, so he slides his arms into the proper holes. Derek tugs him forward by the front, leaving barely a few inches between them. He zips it up to Stiles’ throat, and then pulls the hood up and over until it shadows Stiles’ face. 

“Keep your head down no matter what,” Derek says finally, picking up the backpack and duffle bag with one hand, the show off, while grabbing onto Stiles’ bicep with the other, dragging him down the hall and out the door. 

Stiles does as he is told, keeping his head down, but as soon as he steps outside, the flashes are everywhere. Derek pushes him slightly into the door, keeping Stiles covered with his own body while he lets go to pull his keys out of his jacket pocket. He feels Derek stiffen next to him as he hurries to lock the door. Maybe he should take this more seriously if Derek is taking this as a valid threat? Stiles feels a little disoriented hearing a roar of questions being thrown at them, with lights going off repeatedly in the periphery of his vision. He’s starting to feel anxious without Derek’s grip on his arm, but as soon as the door is locked, Derek has a hold of him once more. 

Stiles can feel people pushing towards him; it’s like he’s being squeezed in a vice. It feels like hundreds of people are shouting questions in his ear, but he can’t separate them from each other as he tries his best to keep moving through all the bodies in the way. Derek continues to pull him forward as he uses his own body like a battering ram. But the flashes keep going off, and he can feel himself being jostled around by the more aggressive photographers trying to get a shot of his face. 

After what feels like an hour, Derek herds him to the door of the Camaro. Derek uses his own body as a wall to keep back the paparazzi while Stiles opens the passenger door. Stiles slides in and breathes out a sigh of relief when the door is closed behind him. A physical barrier between him and them goes a long way to keeping the impending panic attack at bay. He continues to keep his head down though because the cameras are still going off. He wonders how many damn pictures they need. 

The driver’s door finally opens and Derek slides in as he shoves the duffle bag in the back and the backpack in Stiles’ lap. Stiles uses it to hide his face as the paparazzi crowd around the car. Derek growls and quickly puts the car into reverse. He does some dangerous maneuver that leaves Stiles clutching tightly onto his seat, but they manage to get away and that is all that matters. 

“I think I underestimated your lifestyle,” Stiles says finally. 

“That was nothing,” Derek counters dryly as he pushes down on the gas pedal. 

“I’m going to kill Erica,” Stiles decides as he settles further back into the seat.

“Get in line,” Derek deadpans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have no idea how blown away I am by the reception this fic has gotten so far. I'm truly thankful for all of you!
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcomed.
> 
> Oh also, I drew up a floor plan for Stiles' apartment which you can see using this: http://i.imm.io/UEC7.png


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Diane, for being such an amazing beta.

Running has always been Derek’s favorite way of relieving stress. He enjoys running through the forest until it just becomes a giant green and brown blur. The dry leaves crunch under the weight of his paws as he goes along in full wolf form, black fur making him almost invisible as the sun disappears from the horizon. He slows his pace until he’s padding along the stream, feeling content for the first time in days. This forest has nothing on the forest in Beacon Hills, the one he grew up running in, but it serves its purpose. One of his favorite places he has run was actually the Amazon rain forest in South America, while he was filming an action adventure film two years back. It’s true that wolves don’t belong in a rain forest, but werewolves? Yeah, Derek had plans to head back when he got some time off, pack in tow. 

The sound of a twig breaking echoes through the forest. Derek snaps his head in the direction of the noise, his ears erect, twitching. His muzzle is in the air, sniffing in the direction of the noise, and as soon as he captures the smell, he visibly relaxes. 

Derek turns away from the stream, heading instead towards the familiar smell. It doesn’t take long for him to find himself in a clearing. It’s illuminated dimly by the half moon, but his werewolf eyes allow him to see his surroundings perfectly. 

Erica sits with her back against a tree, in human form. She looks up, startled when he appears.

Derek still isn’t in the mood to change back to human form, so he stays as is. He paws his way over to her. He can practically smell the sadness and frustration rolling off of her. She looks scared and vulnerable, and it reminds him of the Erica she used to be. 

She continues to stare at him for a moment before her eyes start welling up with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers softly, low enough that even Derek’s werewolf ears have to strain to hear her, “I didn’t mean for this to go all wrong.”

Instantly, any anger Derek had towards Erica evaporates. Derek has never been the best with emotions, and as alarmed as he is to see Erica cry, a stronger feeling overcomes it. He closes the distance between them, his face rubbing along her neck and shoulder, not stopping until he hears her hiccup a laugh. He pulls away, his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He stretches his body out on the forest floor, his head resting in Erica’s lap. After a moment, her hands wrap up in his fur. They continue to sit there in a comfortable silence.

It means they are pack. It means all is forgiven.

* * * * * 

Breakfast the next morning is a mess. Derek comes downstairs to the kitchen and finds Scott, Allison and Isaac all covered in flour and pancake mix. Allison sees him first and simply points at the other two. 

“Clean it up,” he mumbles before grabbing the box of Fruit Loops and milk. He pours the cereal into a bowl and finishes it with milk. He sits down at the table next to Boyd who is smugly eating his own cereal and watching the others clean up the mess they just made.

Stiles is the next one who stumbles down the stairs. He barely glances at the mess before sitting down across the table from Derek. He makes grabby hands at the cereal box sitting next to Derek, and with an eye roll, Derek hands it over. 

Stiles digs in, eating the cereal dry. 

“How did you sleep?” Derek asks, because it is the polite thing to do. After all, Stiles is a guest, along with Allison and Scott, who he ordered to spend the night here. However, Stiles’ didn’t ruin his kitchen, so he is inclined to be even nicer to him. 

“Wonderfully,” Stiles admits grudgingly, “It was like the best sleep I’ve ever had. I have no idea what that mattress is made out of, but I suspect unicorn wings and heaven.”

Derek snorts at that. He’s glad that Stiles still seems to be his usual annoying self. Stiles has always been known to bounce back quickly from things. 

Derek turns towards Boyd, “How long will it take to get a security system installed?”

“A day or two,” Boyd replies, tilting his head to look at Allison for confirmation, since she is the one who works at the high tech security firm in LA.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Allison answers, dragging a rag over the counters, “I’m thinking high tech, but inconspicuous.”

Derek nods his approval. 

“Look what I have,” Peter Hale announces as he walks into the kitchen with a smile so big, Derek is immediately on edge. Erica follows behind him, with a stack of magazines in her hands. She plops them down on the table and shoots Derek a nervous glance.

Derek picks the magazine on top. Stiles and Boyd both reach for one, too. 

Derek finds himself looking at the cover of a tabloid magazine, his face staring back at him, looking none too pleased. His hand is gripped tightly around Stiles’ purple sweatshirt-clad arm, while Stiles keeps his head down. _‘Derek’s Secret Boyfriend, Not So Secret Anymore’_ is written in bright yellow block letters across the front. 

He looks up at Stiles, who is paler than usual as he flips through the magazine in his own hands. The cover of his shows Derek pressed up against him from the back, while Stiles reaches for the car door. 

Stiles looks up and catches his eye. He offers a weak smile, “Well at least they didn’t get a picture of my face.” 

“But they probably will,” Scott says, until Allison elbows him in the side, “Or you know, not.”

“Scott is right,” Erica confirms worrying her bottom lip, “There is no hiding from them.” 

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is low and soft, “We all jumped into this without really thinking it through.”

Peter snorts at that, causing Derek to pause and glare at his uncle. 

“We can still call it all off,” Derek continues, “Say something like you didn’t want to be in the spotlight, so we ended it. It happens all the time. Everyone will forget about it in a few weeks.”

Stiles is already shaking his head. “No, I mean yes, I might not be having the time of my life right now, and it’s nothing like I thought it would be and I’m already exhausted, even though it’s only been one day. But I said I would do this for you and I will. Erica was right, your lack of a relationship history is weird, because well...” He waves his hand in Derek’s general direction, “Look at you.”

Derek cocks his eyebrow up at that, and he sees the tips of Stiles’ ears going red. He does his best to hold in a smirk.

“Was there a point to that entire ramble?” Peter asks dryly, “Because I seemed to have missed it.”

“The point is,” Stiles sasses back, “I will see this through.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Peter replies with a twinkle in his eye, “Now let’s talk public displays of affection.”

“Peter!” Erica chides before anyone else can respond, “That’s the second step,” she says with a cheeky little grin, “We need to get through step one first.”

“What’s step one?” Stiles asks.

Erica smiles at him with her teeth, “Step one involves getting your face all over the Internet.”

* * * * * 

Derek isn’t the least bit surprised when step one is accomplished by the end of the day. They didn’t even have to resort to anonymously calling up the media and giving out Stiles’ class schedule for the day like Peter had wanted. 

Instead, one of the girls in Stiles’ Master’s history class on ancient civilizations had taken a picture of Stiles while he was listening to the professor and had posted it both on Twitter and Tumblr and from there, it had exploded. Of course, a grainy picture off a cell phone had a lot of people sceptical about the legitimacy of it, but that didn’t seem to stop them from sharing it further. 

Since step one with technically accomplished, it meant it was time for step two. As much as Derek hates to admit it, Peter is right. If Stiles and he are going to pull this off right, then naturally, some public displays of affection have to happen. They could always go for the privacy angle that many celebrities employ for their relationship, but the whole point of this is for the media to be exposed to the relationship. The media isn’t going to buy it for long if they keep a good two feet of distance between them at all times. 

“So what is the plan?” Derek asks grumpily as he sinks down into his favorite recliner. The house is silent save for Erica and Peter’s breathing as they lounge on the couches in the den. Scott and Allison have left for work, Boyd and Isaac went off to work on the security system and Stiles is still at school, something about meeting with his professor. 

“I think we give it a few days,” Erica answers as she jots down a few notes on the legal pad in front of her. “Let Stiles become a little more comfortable with the cameras following him around, while you go back to work. You have two-day photo shoot with Calvin Klein, in case you forgot.”

“I didn’t forget,” Derek sighs, because he didn’t. Forgetting isn’t the same thing as repressing. How could he possibly forget when Calvin Klein is what got him into this whole mess in the first place? But still, brooding in boxers is still much preferred over doing interviews and red carpet events, and don’t even get him started on award shows. 

“Hey, maybe you can even take Sti—” Erica starts

“No,” Derek cuts her off.

“But—”

Derek glares at her in an ‘I’m the Alpha and you’re not’ kind of way.

“Fine,” Erica huffs out, “It was just a suggestion.” 

Peter looks up from his phone, where he spent most of the exchange just typing away. 

“What?” Derek asks cautiously, because he _knows_ that look. 

“I’ve made lunch reservations for you and Stiles at the Ivy for Saturday.”

The Ivy was notorious for their celebrity clientele and paparazzi-lined streets. It’s pretty much where people go to be seen. 

Derek can’t contain his groan this time, sinking further back into the recliner, silently cursing his existence.

“What?” Peter asks innocently, “It’s all part of step two. Public displays of affection.”

* * * * * 

Patio seating. Of-fucking-course. 

“Dude,” Stiles hisses once they sit down at their table, getting double takes from those seated in their vicinity, “I get that you don’t like this, but can please stop glaring at the innocent bystanders?”

Derek chooses glares at him instead. 

“Might want to put on your sunglasses,” Stiles quips unimpressed, “Your Alpha is showing.”

Derek grumbles under his breath, knowing that Stiles’ human ears won’t be able to catch his words, but he concedes and puts on the glasses. He chances a look to his left, where he can see a herd of reporters and photographers gathered, looking straight towards Stiles and him. 

“They’re like vultures,” Stiles says once he notices what Derek is looking at. “One chased me to my class the other day. Like the guy came inside the classroom and refused to leave. The professor had to call the school’s security guys.”

Derek quirks an eyebrow at Stiles, “Do you want me to hire you a bodyguard or something?”

“No!” Stiles exclaims so loudly that several people look over at them. He grins sheepishly at them before looking back at Derek, “I mean, no, it’s okay. I can handle it so far.” 

Their waitress returns with the menu and drink menu handing them one of each, “Do you guys know what you’re drinking?”

Derek gives her a look, “You just gave me the menu.”

“What he means,” Stiles says, giving Derek a kick under the table for his rudeness, which in hindsight was a bad idea, since the only one in pain is Stiles, “Is that he’ll have whatever’s on tap, and I’ll have an iced tea.”

The waitress nods quickly, glancing over at Derek to see if he’s going to disagree. When he doesn’t, she takes back the drink menus and disappears.

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles announces once she is gone.

Derek doesn’t even bother to refute it because he knows it’s true. 

“I don’t think kicking me under the table counts as PDA,” Derek dryly states instead. They’re supposed to be on a lunch date, for the benefit of the media, however, all they’ve managed to do so far is bicker at each other and instigate physical abuse. 

“Fine, can you just, I don’t know, smile at me or something?” Stiles asks.

Derek sighs like it’s just too much work, but he grits his teeth together and smiles at the boy in front of him. 

“Dude,” Stiles flails around looking horrified, “I said smile at me, not bare your teeth like you’re going to rip my face off with them.”

Derek is about to respond when his phone goes off. Erica’s name flashes up at him. He answers it with a “What.”

“I’m sorry, Derek,” Erica says acidly from the other side, “Are you guys staging a date or a break up? I can’t tell from here. Get it together.”

She hangs up, and Derek slams the phone down on the table. 

“Are you brooding?” Stiles asks sounding amused. 

“No,” Derek replies even though he totally is. 

“You totally are,” Stiles says with a smile of his own. 

Derek can’t help but crack a small smile in return, “Shut up.”

The waitress soon returns with their drinks and nervously asks if they’re ready to order. Derek notices the way she keeps closer to Stiles and avoids eye contact with him as much as she can. As soon as they place their order, she disappears. Stiles gives him a look, but Derek claims innocence. He didn’t actually say anything to her this time.

He brings the beer to his lips, swallowing down a mouthful. “I don’t get why you ordered me a beer. You know that it doesn’t do anything for me unless it’s laced with wolfsbane.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Stiles draws out cheekily, “But the media doesn’t, and now that they’ve seen you drink, you can’t possibly get behind the wheel. I guess I have to drive the Camaro now.”

Derek shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement. The amusement only grows, though, as he watches Stiles drinking his iced tea through a straw. It’s a horrifying kind of amusement really. Derek can’t really help but wonder if Stiles looks that ridiculous when he has _other_ things in his mouth. He forcibly draws his eyes away from Stiles’ mouth as he takes a swig of his own beer. 

Their lunch arrives shortly after. 

Derek digs into his steak as Stiles loads his pasta with cheese. They eat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Stiles is obligated to break it, because he is Stiles. 

“So, _Darling_ ,” Stiles mocks, “How was the underwear photo shoot?”

“It was fine,” Derek deadpans, “Pumpkin face.”

Stiles chokes on his linguini, making everyone at the nearby tables look over. 

“You are terrible at nicknames,” Stiles says once he’s managed to compose himself. 

“I don’t know,” Derek muses, “I think I like that one.”

“You’re the worst boyfriend ever.”

The rest of lunch passes without incident. Derek and Stiles chat with each other, becoming more and more comfortable with not only each other, but with the cameras following their every move. Derek avoids all of Erica’s texts that read ‘PDA’ and nothing else. When Stiles asks for the bill, the waitress brings it over, looking relieved. Derek barely glances at the total before tossing a few bills on the table and getting up to leave.

“What was that?” Stiles asks with wide eyes as he catches up to Derek near the front door.

“I may be an asshole,” Derek replies as he opens the door for Stiles, “But I’m an asshole who tips well.”

As soon as they’re outside, the flashes start going off once again. Derek reaches down to grab Stiles’ hand in his own, pulling him closer to him before twining their fingers together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feed back is greatly appreciated. Constructive criticism is always welcomed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thank you to my beta Diane, who listens to me complain, and then reassures me that it's never as bad I think it is.

Derek pulls up to Stiles’ apartment, pleased to see that although a few photographers are lurking around under the guise of using the Laundromat, the numbers have significantly dwindled. He hopes it means people are losing interest in Stiles. 

The photographers spot him pulling up and instantly flashes start going off in his direction. He sighs as he gets out of the driver’s side. Erica gives him a wicked grin as she gets out of the passenger’s side, meeting him in front of the car with her free hand held out towards him. He drops the keys in her hands with an eye roll. 

This is all part of the next stage in Erica’s brilliant plan apparently. Spend the night at Stiles’. 

“When this is over,” Derek snarls, “I’m going to fire you.”

Erica looks unperturbed, shoving his overnight bag into his hands. “When all this is over, I better get one hell of a raise.”

Derek watches, his mouth in a thin line, as Erica gets into his Camaro and peels away. He realizes the photographers are still taking pictures, which gets him moving. He pulls out the keys from his pocket and lets himself in. 

The apartment is silent when Derek opens the door. The kitchen and family room are devoid of life, but Derek can hear a familiar heartbeat coming from the back of the apartment. He toes his shoes off before silently moving down the hall. 

Stiles’ bedroom door is wide open, his back visible as he sits at his desk. His laptop is open in front of him on some word document that Derek assumes is the thesis he’s been complaining about all semester. 

Derek’s lips curl upwards as an idea comes to him. He silently drops his bag on the floor and then creeps in closer towards Stiles until he’s practically standing behind the boy. He bends down until his mouth is mere inches from his ear.

“Boo.”

Stiles flails violently, limbs flying in every which direction as he jumps a few feet in the air. He loses his balance halfway through the fall, and although Derek can use his wolfy powers to save him, he merely takes a few steps to the left, letting Stiles land on the floor in a mess of his own limbs. 

“Dude. Not cool,” Stiles tries to deadpan, but the effect is ruined by his heavy panting. Derek just grins as he listens to Stiles’ heartbeat come down to more normal levels. “I could have been seriously hurt.”

“It’s carpeted,” Derek announces, pointing towards the floor, as if that legitimately makes it okay to scare someone half out of their mind. 

“What are you even doing here?” Stiles asks, getting up off the ground.

“Erica,” Derek offers as an explanation because, really, that is an explanation. Erica seems to be hell bent on making his fake relationship work, and she is going through great lengths to make sure it progresses naturally in the eyes of the media. The pictures from their “date” had gone viral, as expected, which was great for Erica and Peter, but not so much for Derek and Stiles. “I have to spend the night.”

Stiles looks at him doubtfully for a moment, but then he just shrugs his shoulders as he sits back down in his chair. It’s clear he’s just rolling with the punches at this point. 

“I need to keep working on this,” Stiles says, nodding towards his laptop, “but you can watch TV or something.”

“I brought work,” Derek replies looking pointedly at his overnight bag. 

They fall into a comfortable silence, with Derek stretching out across Stiles’ double bed, a stack of papers arranged in four neat piles around him. Derek scrunches his face as he reads through one of the scripts Peter has passed on to him. 

“You look like you’re about to attack it,” Stiles comments from his desk. He pushes off from it, rolling his chair closer to the bed, until he can prop his feet up on the edge.

Derek looks up from the script to Stiles’ waiting face with a frown. He throws the script towards Stiles with such force it causes the boy to tumble over in his chair. Derek feels bad about it for about a quarter of a second, before Stiles starts laughing. Loudly. 

Derek grimaces, because he _knows_ Stiles has read the first few lines. He waits for Stiles’ head to pop up from the ground. When it finally does, Stiles is still laughing, looking incredibly amused. 

“It’s not funny,” Derek deadpans, because it really isn’t.

“It’s a little funny,” Stiles retorts putting the script back on the bed as he stands up and rights his chair, before plopping down in it once more. “I’ve always thought you looked like a Miguel.” 

Derek rolls his eyes at the comment. He knew the second he saw it Stiles would crack up about it, however that wasn’t the reason the script had Derek feeling so conflicted. 

“Okay, so other than having to play a character named Miguel,” Stiles stops to snigger a little more, to the point that Derek rolls his eyes so hard they’re in danger of falling right out of his head, “What’s got you so hot and bothered about this?”

“It’s a serious script,” Derek says simply.

“So?” Stiles prompts, “You’ve been in serious movies before.”

Derek doesn’t respond. Not for lack of an answer, but because these aren’t the types of things he discusses with the pack. As the Alpha he’s always put their needs above his own. Their problems above his own. He’s made it so that they can come to him with any problem they might have, but when it comes to his own problems, he keeps them to himself. 

Stiles continues to watch him carefully, which unnerves Derek a little, but he keeps his face blank. Stiles eventually gives up, which is the last thing Derek was expecting. Stiles never gives up. It has Derek on edge.

“So what do these piles represent?” Stiles asks finally, changing the topic. 

“Stuff I have to go through,” Derek says pointing to the first pile, before pointing to the second pile, which is the biggest one. “Scripts that I’ve rejected, or have rejected me.”

“Wait,” Stiles says, sounding confused, “What do you mean, rejected you?”

“Roles that have been rescinded,” Derek clarifies, “Mostly because of this.” Derek waves his hand between them.

Stiles looks horrified, but Derek just waves it away like it’s the least of his concerns, which it kind of is. Stiles doesn’t look so convinced and Derek can already see the beginning of an argument he does not want to get into. He jumps up off the bed suddenly, pulling some clothes out of his bag and announcing he needs to take a shower. Derek hightails it to the bathroom, trying not to think about how he’d rather run away with his tail between his legs, pun so not intended, than argue with Stiles about their pretend relationship and its effects on his career.

* * * * * 

Stiles goes back to his own work for all of ten seconds before he’s rolling his chair back over to the bed. He can hear the shower being turned on, and he hopes it disguises the sounds he makes as he picks up the scripts in the discarded pile.

He snorts as he goes through a few because, seriously, they’re pretty bad. No wonder Derek rejected them. Most of them are about mythical creatures, which aren’t so mythical. Something Stiles has learned the hard way unfortunately. 

A few of them have a sticky note attached, mentioning how the offer to read has been rescinded. Stiles can’t help but frown at that, since Hollywood is supposed to be the most LGBT friendly industry. _Apparently not_. 

Stiles turns his attention to another pile. The smallest of them all. It contains only a thin booklet of maybe about ten pages. The front cover say ‘Untitled Superman Script’ and Stiles’ eyes widen as he flails in his seat. Because, Holy Shit. 

Stiles’ love for Batman is deep and unquestionable, but he has a soft spot for Superman and DC comics in general. Unfortunately with the recent explosion by Marvel, some of the DC characters have had to take a back seat. Stiles is beyond stoked to find out about a new Superman movie. He flips the booklet open to the second page to see a hefty copyright warning. Big block letter at the bottom clarify that this is for no one but the intended recipient, but Stiles is too excited to pay it much attention. He flips the next page to find roles that are being cast. Stiles scans through the list until his eyes land on the antagonist. Highlighted and starred is ‘Metallo/John Corben’. 

Stiles quickly flips through the rest of the booklet, but it doesn’t give much away. Just a few lines and a small monologue for each character for the purpose of auditioning. Feeling disappointed, he puts it back down, but at least now he knows who the super villain will be. 

A stray thought crosses his mind. The highlighting probably means Derek will be auditioning for that part. Stiles picks up some of the discarded scripts and goes through them. He chews the bottom of his lip as he becomes more and more concerned. He wants to punch himself for being so oblivious to it. Finally, he picks up the script which Derek had been frowning at. The one Stiles had laughed at.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks. 

Stiles jumps up and turns to scowl at Derek. “You need to wear a bell around your neck.”

Derek just stands in his doorway wearing nothing but a pair of navy blue pyjama pants, which hang dangerously low on his hips. His chest has been dried off for the most part, but there are still a few droplets that work their way down over his chest and through the deep indents of his abdomen. Stiles watches them, utterly memorized. 

All other thoughts leave his mind as he continues to stare. He can feel himself starting to overheat as his eyes go downwards, running over the V-shape that leads to more intriguing places. He forces his eyes upwards until they lock with Derek’s deep green ones, which look beyond pleased. He can see the slight curl of Derek’s lips, which finally pulls him out of his trance. 

“You done?” Derek asks as he bends over, _because he’s an asshole_ , to grab a plain white t-shirt out of his bag. He slips it on seamlessly, making it one of the sexiest things Stiles has ever seen. 

“Fuck off,” Stiles replies, trying to save face, but it lacks any real heat. See, the thing is, he has always known Derek Hale was hotness incarnate, but he was always able to look past it. First, it was because he had been in high school, and it was illegal and he was still trying to figure out his own sexuality. When he headed off to college, he saw much less of Derek, especially since that was when Derek’s career really started taking off. They still saw plenty of each other, but it was almost always in a group setting. A pack setting. But now, now that Stiles was spending so much one on one time with Derek, he was having a hard time keeping his hormones in check. All those stupid high school feelings were coming back tenfold. It was disconcerting to say the least. 

“But really,” Derek says, his smile falling, “You looked upset.”

Stiles face goes grim as he glances at Derek and then at the pile of scripts, “You’re not a bad guy you know,”

Derek quirks his eyebrow up at Stiles in confusion, “Uh...okay.”

“I’m serious,” Stiles says sounding agitated; he sits down on the edge of the bed, his leg bouncing up and down nervously. “I was just going through these scripts, and they had one thing in common. You’re the bad guy.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak, just continues to look at Stiles, his blank expression masking all emotions. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice it before,” Stiles bemoans, “But you’ve always played the bad guy. Even in this stupid Vampire movie you play the werewolf, who is the dark, mysterious guy with anger issues. Everyone knows the girl is going to end up with the Vampire at the end of the series. Hell, even in the Superman movie, you’re auditioning for the villain. You’ve never played the good guy.”

Derek tilts his head to the side as his eyes practically burn holes into Stiles. “I play what I know.”

“That’s bullshit,” Stiles yells, feeling his body overheat once more, but for a completely different reason this time. This is anger. Anger at Derek for continuing to think about himself this way even though it wasn’t his fault. Anger at himself for not realizing it sooner. It wasn’t any secret Derek had a negative perception of himself, but to go as far as to play the bad guy because he still believed he is. Stiles can’t stand the injustice of it.

“Derek,” Stiles pleads, “You can’t hold yourself responsible for something that was _done to you_. It was never your fault and I absolutely refuse to let you continue to believe it.”

The sincerity in his voice is so palpable that Derek’s expression falters and for a moment the mask falls, revealing anguish and frustration and a hint of something else that Stiles can’t quite decode. But from one breath to the next it is gone, replaced once more with impenetrable stone. 

Stiles watches as Derek’s shoulders stiffen and then his back is to Stiles. He’s going to walk away, and there isn’t anything Stiles can do to stop him and force him to have this conversation. 

“You’re not the villain in this story,” Stiles says fiercely to Derek’s back as he walks away, “You’re the hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism is more than welcomed. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Diane, you truly are the greatest!

Of all the things Derek Hale does well, ignoring the issue is pretty high up on the list. As long as no one is dead or in danger of dying, and you would be surprised at how often that situation occurs, Derek wants nothing to do with it. Talking to Stiles about his personal issues is about as appealing as repeatedly being stabbed with a wolfsbane-laced knife. If pushed, he might even go as far as admitting being stabbed is the _more_ preferable option. 

This is why he glares at Stiles every time the other boy so much as looks like he wants to say something. Stiles huffs in return and starts smashing the keys on his laptop, most likely imagining it’s Derek’s face. 

Derek has no idea why Stiles followed him from the bedroom to the living room. It’s not like he’s speaking with him or anything. Derek tries to concentrate on the TV screen as Stiles continues to angrily type away. Derek almost sighs in relief when his super hearing picks up the sound of Scott and Allison coming up the stairs. 

Neither one looks surprised to see him there, which Derek concludes to mean Erica had already gotten to them. 

Allison holds up a white paper bag with the logo of a local Chinese place on the front. “We brought food.”

The four of them sit in the living room, with cartons of food spread out on the coffee table in front of them. It’s a little like old times, Derek thinks, back before his fame took over. Naturally, that’s when Stiles decides to break the cardinal rule. 

The move is so casual, too, Stiles grabs the remote and flips through the channels until he lands on the TV guide channel. Derek can see the exact moment when Stiles’ eyes light up. Even Scott and Allison stop chewing as they look between Derek and Stiles like spectators at a tennis match. 

Derek glares. Stiles is unfazed.

With a few buttons pushed on the remote, Derek finds himself listening to, well, himself. 

Stiles went there. Derek wonders if Scott will try and stop him from smashing Stiles’ face into the coffee table. 

Stiles looks smug as shit as he pretends to watch one of Derek’s older movies. 

Derek despises watching his own movies, and although he knows the pack will most likely go out and watch movies he’s been in, it’s always been kind of an unwritten rule that the pack avoid watching said movies in his presence. They’ve always honored that rule. Until now.

Derek grits his teeth as he listens to the onscreen version of himself relay one cliché bad guy line after another. He knows Stiles’ goal is to get him to walk away. It’s a game of chicken essentially, but Derek Hale is no chicken, so he settles himself further into the couch, staring pointedly at the screen. 

“Maybe we can watch something else...” Scott says diplomatically, trying to diffuse the situation even though he’s not a part of it. 

“No,” Stiles chirps, “I really like this movie. What about you, Derek? Any objections?”

“None at all,” Derek deadpans, while simultaneously planning his revenge.

* * * * * 

“What are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” Derek replies as he flips himself over onto his stomach.

“On my bed.”

“Astute observations skills,” Derek says sarcastically.

“Dude,” Stiles looks violated, “Why are you in my bed?”

“I already told you,” Derek explains slowly, “I have to spend the night.”

“I know that,” Stiles snaps, “But the couch is more than comfortable.”

“Then how about you sleep on it,” Derek parries back.

Stiles frowns at him. Derek can practically feel Stiles’ eyes on his exposed back. 

“Fine,” Stiles finally grumbles, “Move over.”

Derek actually looks up at that before looking at the sliver of space left on the double sized bed. Stiles’ bedroom is so cramped that the only way his bed even fits in the room is by having it pushed up against the far wall. 

“Inside,” Derek says finally, shifting over slightly so Stiles can have a little more space.

“Outside,” Stiles counters, “It’s my bed after all.”

Derek cocks an eyebrow at the challenge, “Inside or you can go sleep on the couch.”

Derek can practically see the internal battle taking place in Stiles’ head, but after a moment, his shoulders slump in defeat. He grumbles as he slides into the tiny space Derek has set aside for him, which has him flush against the wall, unless he wants to be in physical contact with Derek. 

Derek smiles smugly into his pillow. This is definitely a point in his win column. But more than just pissing off Stiles, sleeping on the outside serves a bigger purpose, a more important purpose. It’s putting himself between any potential danger and Stiles. It’s not that Derek thinks Stiles is weak by any means, because he’s not, but he is very painfully human. 

Stiles can do his fair share of damage with his enchanted little baseball bat, Derek will concede to that, but at least by being the wall between him and possible threats, Derek can give Stiles a better chance at survival. 

It is with these thoughts swirling through his mind that Derek falls into a peaceful slumber.

* * * * * 

Stiles cracks his eyes open slowly. He has never been so overheated in his life, and the reason becomes clear as soon as he’s awake enough to take stock. Derek Hale is a cuddler.

Derek’s arm is also made out of lead, Stiles realizes as he tries to squirm his way out from under it. It’s not that he doesn’t particularly enjoy this because this scene has been the subject of many high school fantasies, but if Derek wakes up, he will realize how _completely okay with this Stiles is._

“Stiles,” Derek grumbles, his stubble tickling the side of Stiles’ face as his jaw moves, which does not help Stiles’ situation at all. 

“Yes, Derek?” Stiles replies in a voice a few decibels higher than it should be. 

“You smell like arousal.”

Well fuck.

“Can you stop,” Derek continues, “The smell overpowers my ability to sleep.”

“Well, if you keep talking, I’m sure it will be gone in no time,” Stiles mutters, because Derek is a giant dick and deserves to be treated like one.

Derek chuckles in response, “What happens if I talk and do _this_ at the same time?”

Stiles yelps because Derek is now nuzzling the side of his face, and holy hell, someone this frowny and cold should not have the softest lips in the history of mankind. Stiles’ ability to string words together and form sentences disappears as soon as Derek’s lips move from his jaw to his ear. His tongue flicks out to lick the bottom before his teeth barely graze the surface of the lobe. 

Derek slips the arm that rests on Stiles’ chest teasingly downwards. His rough fingers run over bare flesh, over Stiles’ abdomen and lower still, until they come to stop at the waistband of Stiles’ pajamas. 

To Stiles’ own horror, he hears the low groans his traitorous body is emitting without permission. His body is reacting all on its own, with no input from his brain, not that his brain is in any state to object at the moment.  


Stiles can feel the vibrations of Derek’s chuckle this time. Stiles starts to lean in towards Derek’s mouth as a not so subtle hint to continue what he was is doing, but Derek is gone, already standing in the middle of the small space with his head tilted towards the window listening to something Stiles cannot hear. 

Stiles watches the slight ticking of Derek’s jaw, and the stiffening of his body becomes more and more concerning. Derek is in full out attack mode. Stiles scrambles out the bed as fast as he can, but he gets tangled in the sheets, falling onto the floor in a giant heap of limbs and linens. 

“What is it?” Stiles asks as he untangles himself, “Werewolves? Harpies? Unicorns?”

“Reporters,” Derek answers.

Stiles visibly relaxes because reporters they can handle. He’s not quite sure why Derek is reacting like this over reporters. 

“So?”

“So,” Derek emphasises, “They’re outside your window.”

“And I repeat so?”

“Outside your second floor window.”

“Wait,” Stiles pales, “You mean directly outside the window?”

He doesn’t wait before lunging on the bed to grab hold of the blackout curtains he had installed when he moved in. He whips them open and comes face-to-face with two guys with massive cameras pointed at him. 

“What the fuck?” Stiles shouts as their flashes start going off. 

Derek growls, moving to close the curtains, but in his rage, he pulls with superhuman strength, which pulls the rod, and the curtains right off 

Stiles feels a jolt of electricity run though him the moment Derek wraps his fingers around his wrist. He tugs him up off the bed and out the door. Derek pauses to flash red eyes at the photographers before slamming the door shut. 

Derek picks up his phone from the coffee table, where he left it the night before. Stiles goes into the kitchen to fix some breakfast while Derek angrily retells the story to Erica. 

“I don’t care what you do, Erica, those pictures cannot be published.” 

Derek hangs up, and Stiles looks up from where he’s making scrambled eggs. 

“I agree with you when it comes to not wanting those pictures published,” Stiles says while he pointedly looks between his and Derek’s pajama-clad bodies. Stiles is rocking Sponge Bob. “But how is this different from them publishing the pictures from the restaurant and us holding hands?”

“That was planned,” Derek replies darkly, “This is a massive invasion of privacy.”

* * * * * 

Not only were the pictures published, but a certain tabloid took it to extremes by publishing a 20 page spread of nothing but those pictures. To make matters even worse, there had been a small opening in the curtains, which led to the photographers getting pictures of Derek snuggling into Stiles and one particular photograph which made what they were doing look a lot less innocent than it was.

The pictures were everywhere. Magazine covers, Twitter, Facebook, gossip websites and all over Tumblr. 

Derek put his fist through his kitchen wall.

More surprising to Stiles, however, was Peter’s behaviour. 

Derek’s anger looked like a kitten’s compared to Peter Hale’s fury. Peter had already promised to sue every tabloid in the city over the pictures. It was all very confusing to Stiles. 

Even now, as Stiles sits in the Den with the rest of the pack, he can see Peter fuming over a text in the corner.

“So,” Erica says breaking the silence that has settled over them all, “I think we should all just focus on the future. I know it goes against everything Derek believes in, but we really should try and move past this.”

Derek growls at her, but she effectively ignores it. Stiles thinks about bringing up Derek’s other issue, but then decides now may not be the time for it. Plus, he wants to have another chance at getting Derek to actually open up to him before he calls the pack in for backup. Maybe they can hold an intervention or something. Derek would probably kill them all. 

“I just got an e-mail about the Lexington Gala,” Erica continues, “And since Derek was invited with a plus one, I think this is a great time to officially introduce Stiles to the public.” 

“I thought we already introduced me to the public,” Stiles counters, “Wasn’t that the whole point of the Ivy date?”

“The Ivy was to showcase that Derek had a boyfriend. The Gala will show not only does Derek have a boyfriend, but that it’s also serious. Celebrities don’t bring non-famous plus ones unless things are serious between the two.”

“Yes, fine, whatever,” Derek agrees, grumbling his reluctance..

“Good,” Erica says with conniving smile, “Because I think it’s about time that you two have your first kiss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments make me smile, so leave one below!
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcomed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A massive thanks to Diane, who edited this chapter while on her Spring Break. How amazing is she?

Derek’s Den has been turned into a makeshift dressing room, lined with racks and racks of clothing with price tags reading amounts Stiles has only ever dreamed of. Derek is sprawled out on his recliner, watching the scene unfold with amusement, Stiles notes, as he stands in the middle of the room, trying to pull his red hoodie out of Erica’s iron grip.

“Stiles,” Erica growls, her patience growing thin. Her eyes flash gold before settling back to their normal color. Stiles gulps, but holds on.

“This is a perfectly acceptable hoodie. I washed it and everything,” Stiles argues, tugging on the thick cotton material. “I don’t understand why I can’t wear it.”

“Because you’re going to the Lexington Gala, not Comic Con,” a new voice butts in with clear distaste.

Stiles lets go of the hoodie, causing Erica to go flying backwards into the racks of clothes as he whips his head around to look at the newcomer.

In the doorway stands Lydia Martin in all her redheaded goddess-y glory. Her lips are pursed and her head tilted to the side slightly as she looks past Stiles, towards the clothing as if she’s already tired of his presence and moving on to things that are actually worth her attention. 

Jackson comes sauntering into the room a moment later, destroying the moment. 

Stiles feels the back of his neck heating up. He turns to find Derek watching him curiously. When Derek catches his eye, he just cocks an eyebrow in his direction, not saying a word. Stiles turns back towards Lydia because that seems to be the best way to avoid the butterflies that have started fluttering in his stomach for _no apparent reason._

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” Stiles says, taking a few steps forwards in order to place a chaste kiss on Lydia’s forehead in greeting, which causes Jackson to snarl at him, “But what are you doing here?”

“Erica and Allison needed backup. And I refuse to let you destroy the image we painstakingly built up for Derek,” Lydia answers, stepping around Stiles and Jackson to critically examine the racks of button ups and dress pants. Her eyes are calculating as she picks up a piece and glances at it, before looking at Stiles and then setting it back. “I see I have my work cut out for me.”

Jackson snorts while Stiles looks affronted at the thinly veiled insult. 

“Jackson,” Lydia says distractedly, “Shoo.”

“What? Why do I have to leave just because Stilinski has the fashion sense of a sixth grader?” Jackson asks, but he’s already half way out the room because the guy is whipped. Stiles can’t even bring himself to blame him. Even now, when he is no longer hung up on Lydia, he still can’t deny the power she wields over people. 

Jackson leaves resembling a lost puppy as he goes off in search of the rest of the pack, who are in the basement game room trying to get as far as they can from the makeover mood the girls seem to be in. 

Stiles eyes the three girls warily before glancing over at Derek, who looks bored and now appears to be busy looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the forest beyond. 

“Take off your shirt,” Lydia orders as she pulls a navy shirt off the rack.

“Uh, no,” Stiles answers, crossing his arms over his chest because, yeah, that is not happening.

It’s not like he’s self-conscious about his body because he’s totally not...around normal people. But after spending years with a genetically superior species, yeah, it is not happening. He knows what the wolves are packing, and let’s just say that Stiles is nowhere near qualifying for the absurd league they all play in. 

Lydia tilts her head to study him for a moment. “Either you take it off, or Erica uses her claws to rip it off.”

As if to make her point, Erica makes a show out of shifting her hands into deadly claws. 

Girls don’t play fair, Stiles decides as he tugs his Batman shirt up over his head and tosses it on the ground, leaving him standing before the girls and Derek in nothing but a pair of khakis. 

“Pants, too,” Allison adds cheekily with a dimpled smile.

* * * * * 

The next few hours involve Stiles trying on every piece of clothing on the racks until the girls finally decide an outfit that all three of them had agreed on thirty minutes into this whole mess. Why he had to try on everything before settling on it is beyond Stiles’ comprehension. 

Much to his dismay, it takes them about two minutes to pick out and hand to Derek his outfit, and they don’t even force him to strip and change like their own personal real life Ken doll. He’s allowed to simply take the clothes and head up to his bedroom to change. 

Bull-fucking-shit.

The same thought crosses his mind when Derek emerges from his bedroom because there is no way in hell someone can look that good. It’s actually an insult to the rest of humanity to have someone that good looking exist. How do mere mortals like him even try to compare themselves to that? 

Derek stands stoically in his blacks pants, white button up and black blazer, forgoing a tie altogether. 

To think Stiles spent so much time jerking off to thoughts of Derek in a leather jacket, when he could have been doing it to this image because nothing can compare to this. 

“Now stand beside each other,” Erica directs. “We need to see how well you match.”

Stiles hesitantly takes a step closer to Derek. He can’t tell how well they look together, but the girls all have matching smiles on their faces, which is a good sign. 

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, messing it up a bit in the process. He looks down at his tight black pants, the kind Derek tends to favor. A white belt is wound through them and a black button up is tucked in. The outfit is completed by a skinny white tie and a pair of white tennis shoes the girls really didn’t want him to wear, but Derek glared them into submission on. 

“We should go,” Derek mutters grasping Stiles’ wrist lightly and leading him out of the house and out into the garage. 

Stiles makes a beeline for the passenger side of the Camaro, but Derek stops him, motioning to the other car parked a few feet away.

Stiles freezes, his mouth opening and closing a few times as words escape him for the first time since, well, ever. 

His eyes roam over the body of the metallic Lamborghini Reventon. The car is gorgeous and, though admired from a distance by the entire pack, Derek has never let anyone touch, let alone ride in it. It’s the one thing that is completely his own. 

Stiles feels like he’s breaking some unwritten rule by getting this close to it. 

“Are you getting in?” Derek sighs as he lifts up the driver side door _because the doors open up._

Stiles scrambles to his own door, gingerly lifting it up before sliding into the bucket seat.

* * * * * 

Derek can practically hear Stiles hyperventilating in the seat next to him as he pulls up into a line of other ridiculously expensive cars as people wait their turns to get to the front where the Red Carpet begins. 

Without thinking, Derek rests his hand on Stiles’ leg, which makes it stop jumping almost instantaneously. He can practically feel Stiles’ wide eyes on him, but he keeps his gaze focused on the licence plate of the Ferrari in front of him. 

Now is not the time to dig into why his feelings for Stiles have shifted from just pack to a much more protective and personal nature. He doesn’t want to think of the reasonhe punched a hole through his kitchen wall a few days ago, and he doesn’t want to think about why he has the overwhelming need to comfort Stiles now. 

He takes a perverse type of pleasure, however, in knowingMatt Daehler, the scumbag photographer known around Hollywood for taking invasive photos, won’t be bothering Stiles anymore. He and Isaac have made sure of that much. 

“Dude, you’re making that really terrifying face again,” Stiles says, breaking through his thoughts. Thankfully, the line starts moving, so Derek is saved from responding.

* * * * * 

“Holy shit,” Stiles squeaks, causing Derek to roll his eyes for the fifth time in three minutes, “Dude, do you know who that is?”

Derek shifts his gaze slightly so he can see who Stiles seems to be so enamoured with. Further down the Red Carpet is a good looking older man with dark hair and a beard. Derek recognizes him immediately, considering they just finished working on a project together.

“That’s Christian Bale,” Derek answers through gritted teeth as he warily eyes the line of photographers who have finally seemed to have spotted them.

“Batman, dude, it’s fucking Batman,” Stiles exclaims, flailing his arms around to make his point.

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” Derek says dryly as he wraps his arm around Stiles’ shoulder in what the people watching would consider a romantic gesture, when in truth, Derek is just doing it so he can lead Stiles further down the carpet, since the boy seems incapable of moving without aid. 

“I am not,” Stiles snaps, but he does seem to get a grip on himself, straightening his posture and allowing Derek to guide him along the Red Carpet.

As soon as Stiles seems capable of walking on his own, Derek drops his arm, holding it rigidly against his side. The level of noise grows as they head towards the reporters, and Derek is doing all he can not to bare his teeth at anyone and everyone.

As soon as they are within range, flashes start going off and the reporters start shouting questions at him. Derek instinctive reaches out to draw Stiles closer towards him. Derek can see Stiles smiling as photographers continue to snap pictures of the two of them as they stand in front of the advertised backdrop. 

Derek feels Stiles discreetly nudge him in his side. Derek turns his glare away from the cameras and towards Stiles, who leans in close to whisper in his ear, “Would it kill you to smile or answer some questions?”

“Yes,” Derek grumbles in response, but he sighs, pulling away from Stiles and paying attention to some of the questions the reporters continue to scream at him.

“What made you come out of the closet?” he hears a man ask.

“Who said I was ever in a closet?” Derek deadpans.

For a moment, the reporters stop screaming over each other and just kind of stare at him. He can hear Stiles trying to choke down his laugh, looking everywhere but at Derek as the reporters try to compose themselves. 

Derek realizes they never actually expected him to answer any questions in the first place. It’s pretty well known he is notoriously private about his life, for obvious reasons, and they were just fishing for information without actually expecting him to bite. But now that he has, he can see the gleam in some of their eyes. They could probably get a nice little bonus if they can be one of the first ones to get some new information on him out to the public. This is all Stiles’ fault.

“You don’t look gay,” another reporter shouts, puncturing the silence.

“Pop culture portrays a very stereotypical version of homosexuality,” Stiles says before Derek can even open his mouth to answer, or more likely growl. “It’s incredibly naive to think everyone who identifies as being LGBT would fit into the narrow niche Hollywood has created for them. In the same way you don’t expect real women to look like their Hollywood counter parts, you can’t expect every gay person to be the loveable, but quirky, sidekick.”

Stiles is still smiling at the reporters, Derek can see as much, but he’s probably the only one that can see the anger flashing through his eyes. Derek reaches down to intertwine their fingers together, squeezing his hand slightly in support. Stiles’ face softens just a fraction, but enough to let Derek know he did the right thing. 

“Mr. Hale,” A young reporter calls out, “Information has leaked out that you have been pulled from projects that you had essentially already booked after news about you and...your boyfriend had gotten out. What do you have to say to that?”

“Who I sleep with has very little impact on my ability to act,” Derek answers neutrally, “If it is enough to fire me from a project, then I guess it’s for the best, because those are not the type of people I would want to work with.”

With that, Derek turns his back to the cameras and the reporters and walks away, tugging Stiles along with him. They only make it a few steps before Stiles stops, forcing Derek to turn to look at him. 

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?” Stiles asks with bright eyes.

Derek has a handful of sarcastic retorts to use in response, but he doesn’t get a chance because Stiles closes the few inches between them with his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments make me smile, so leave some below!
> 
> Constructive criticism is always welcome


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a massive thank you to Diane for editing this chapter!

“So how much of that do you think they’ll misquote?” Stiles asks nervously, running his fingers through his hair. Now that he has time to think about exactly what he just did a few moments prior, he’s slightly horrified. 

Derek just shrugs, looking completely unaffected as he guides Stiles forward with a gentle hand on his back. 

Bastard. 

Stiles frowns at his internal monologue, silently scolding himself for the inappropriate word choice.

Asshole.

Stiles nods, much better. 

Derek gives him a quizzical look, probably because he’s stopped moving and is now just standing there nodding at nothing. He can see a slight twitch near Derek’s lips, and boy, what fine lips they are. But that is beside the point. The point is that Derek is amused.

“To be honest,” Derek drawls as he nudges Stiles forward again and into the grand ballroom the Gala is being held at, “I think they’ll be too busy plastering pictures of that little kiss all over every celebrity tabloid in existence to care much about what was said before that.”

“Every tabloid in existence?” Stiles asks with a raised eyebrow while simultaneously trying not to gape at his surroundings. “Cocky much?”

“Not at all,” Derek counters as he grabs two flutes of champagne off the tray of a passing server and hands one to Stiles, “but with my luck...”

Stiles is the one smiling now as Derek trails off because it’s true. Derek’s own perpetual hell is his unceasing success. If Derek does not want it to happen, not only will it happen, but it will also happen on the largest possible scale. 

Stiles takes a slow drink while glancing around the room. It’s decked out in black, white and gold giving it a classic look. Everything seems to be wrapped up in gauzy fabric, from the tables to the chairs to the walls. However, it’s not the decor that catches Stiles’ attention, it’s the guest list. 

“Dude, you never told me that everyone here would be so... _famous_ ,” Stiles says with slight awe. His eyes pass over Christian Bale again and land on Emma Watson, bulging slightly, because _Hermione_. 

Derek looks at him like he’s an idiot before pointing to himself. “Despite my best effort,” Derek states exasperatedly, “I am an A-lister.”

If Stiles didn’t know any better, he would think Derek looks a little offended at his remark. 

Before Stiles can respond, Derek just rolls his eyes and takes Stiles’ hand loosely in his own and leads them both to their assigned table. 

Their table seems to be composed of actors and actresses from Derek’s upcoming vampire flick, which leaves Stiles feeling a little disappointed. 

Stiles learns that the actor who plays the vampire West is actually named Callum Johnson, and he seems like a pretty cool guy. Fairly attractive, too, in Stiles’ opinion, but he has nothing on Derek. 

The girl who plays Emma, Vivian James, is a much more familiar face to Stiles. Unlike Callum, she has a fair amount of work under her belt already. 

She looks between him and Derek suspiciously, and when she glances at Stiles, it kind of looks like she wants to bite him, but not in the sexually gratifying way. 

“So where did the two of you meet?” she asks in a voice so sweet it could give a person diabetes. 

“We grew up in the same town,” Stiles supplies. “We’ve known each other forever.”

“Really?” She asks tilting her head akin to the way Lydia does when she’s thinking hard about something. “He’s never mentioned you before. I mean we’ve filmed two movies together already and not once was your name brought up.”

Stiles knows immediately that Vivian is trying to get a reaction from him. She’s poking and prodding until she finds a sore spot she can expose further. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know Derek as well as he does. 

Stiles suspects Derek doesn’t talk about anything much on set, let alone his friends. Hell, he’d even be willing to wager a good chunk of money on Derek not speaking to anyone on set unless it has already been scripted. 

“And your point?” Derek cuts in with a frown, making Stiles smile smugly at the sudden defense. 

“It just seems really sudden,” Vivian says offhandedly. “I mean, not once do you mention him, and then poof, there he is. It just seems very convenient to me. People start talking and all of a sudden you’re taken?”

Stupid is something Vivian James clearly is not, Stiles thinks as he studies the raven haired beauty a little more closely in her couture dress and neck full of glittering diamonds. In fact, the thought of her being able to unravel their entire story in a matter of minutes is more than just a little unnerving. 

“I still don’t see how any of this concerns you,” Derek growls out. 

This seems to effectively shut her up for the moment, if the small pout and sigh she emits is any indication. However, her eyes tell another story. Stiles can tell this conversation is far from over. He glances over at Derek and comes to the conclusion there is more to the story than he has been let in on.

* * * * * 

Derek sighs because this is pretty much as boring as he anticipated it to be. How many hands can he possibly shake while feigning interest in whatever topic is currently being spoken about?

“I get the feeling you don’t even know half of these people,” Stiles slurs as he sidles up next to him. Derek notes the flute of champagne in the younger man’s hand, his sixth of the night if Derek recalls correctly. He swiftly takes it away, downing it a single gulp and handing the empty flute back. 

“I was drinking that,” Stiles grumbles, reminding Derek of a petulant child. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” Derek answers flatly. Stiles doesn’t argue, though he still looks significantly unhappy with this new turn of events. 

“I think I’m going to search for some more stimulating company,” Stiles huffs before walking away.

Derek rolls his eyes out of habit. He slinks over to a nearby wall wishing he could just sink into the shadows and disappear. 

There is a lot about this business he doesn’t enjoy, but award shows and events like this are at the very top of the list. There are too many sounds, too many smells, too many people. He can feel the wolf within him standing on guard, agitated. 

It’s a testament to the level of control Derek has over his wolf that he is merely just standing at the edge of the room instead of fighting past the hordes of guests, looking for a way out. 

The fact that Stiles’ voice and scent are lost in the mass of bodies has his wolf ready to bare his teeth and jump into the fray to find him. Derek tries to push down the feeling, playing it off as being concerned for his pack member and nothing more. 

He feels his heart do tiny little flips in his chest when he thinks about the way Stiles kissed him earlier. It was quick and short, and Derek did not have any time to respond before Stiles was backing away in horror, smelling of embarrassment. 

It was the latter that kept Derek from bringing it up. 

Maybe it’s for the best if he just lets it go. Things are starting to become a little too real between him and Stiles, and it leaves him feeling a little anxious. 

After Kate, his desire to be involved with anyone kind of died, much like his entire family, he thinks darkly with a humorless smile on his face. 

Stiles is pack, Derek reminds himself, nothing more. The premier for _Vampire Rising 2_ is the following week, and once that is done and over with, the two of them will date for a few more weeks and then break up. 

Derek can avoid another “relationship” for a couple of years before people once again start asking questions. If he’s still relevant in the Hollywood world in a few years, that is. The shelf life of celebrities is ridiculously low. 

At the continuous nagging of his wolf, however, Derek gives in and uses his heightened senses to locate Stiles. 

He can’t see him from where he is standing, but he can hear his nervous laugh if he tilts his head slightly to the left. The more Derek focuses, the clearer it becomes, and all the other noises start becoming a mishmash in the background. 

“I hope you don’t get too used to this,” another familiar voice butts in, “Because it’s probably the last time you get invited to something like this.”

Derek grits his teeth as Vivian’s voice becomes sharper. He should have known Vivian would accost Stiles the second she saw him alone. 

“For someone so hot, you sure are petty,” Stiles replies, chipper as always, though Derek can sense the hidden layers of annoyance. 

“Derek is going to use you and then drop you,” Vivian snarls.

“And you think that once he drops me, he’ll go for you?” Stiles asks bemused.

“I don’t think anything,” Vivian replied, “I know it. You don’t sleep with someone the way he did with me and feel nothing.”

There is a long silence in which Derek doesn’t so much as breathe for fear of missing the next part of the conversation.

“Y-you slept with Derek?” Stiles asks in a small voice. Gone is the annoyance and air of nonchalance. It’s replaced with hurt and confusion, and Derek would like nothing more than to slit Vivian’s throat at this very moment for deliberately saying the one thing that would knock Stiles off his game.

“Oh!” Vivian exclaims in a fake, shocked voice, “Did your _lover_ not tell you about that? My mistake.” 

She doesn’t sound sorry at all, Derek thinks. In fact, she sounds incredibly pleased with herself. 

A low growl rumbles deep in his throat and he takes a purposeful step forward, and then another. He closes the gap between himself and the other two in record time. A small voice at the back of his mind reminds him to keep himself in check, but he ignores it. 

He must look exceptionally fierce when he approaches them because the smug smile on Vivian’s face disappears instantly. 

Stiles looks paler than usual, but other than that, he seems composed. Unfortunately for him, Derek can sense Stiles’ real feelings, no matter how hard he tries to hide them on his face. Derek can smell the confusion, disappointment and hurt rolling off the younger man. The waves of emotion punch him in the gut, and guilt comes welling up.

Derek does his best to push it down, focusing on keeping his face devoid of emotions. He cocks an eyebrow at Vivian and she just gives him an uneasy smile.

“We were just talking,” she laughs nervously. “Stiles had no idea how _close_ the cast became during filming.”

Unlike Stiles, she doesn’t know he could hear their conversation from clear across the room. He can see the corner of Stiles’ lips quirk upwards. It’s very subtle, but Derek latches on to it as a positive sign. The waves of discontent still roll off him, but they seem a little more subdued. 

“Are you ready to leave?” Derek asks gruffly, ignoring Vivian completely. 

Stiles just nods. They’ve been there long enough to leave without too many people asking questions. Vivian finally seems to get the memo because she mutters some excuse before wandering off. 

Derek takes Stiles’ hand in his own and heads out of the ballroom and towards a back exit so they can avoid the hordes of paparazzi gathered around the front.

* * * * * 

Stiles follows Derek down into the underground parking garage where all the extravagant cars seem to have been parked. Derek’s Lamborghini is parked between another Lambo and a Rolls-Royce. 

Stiles can see the tension in Derek’s shoulders, and how he lets himself sag forward a bit when he realizes the garage is devoid of people, with the exception of them. 

He may not be a werewolf, but he’s pretty accomplished at reading emotions on stoic faces, and Derek’s is riddled with guilt. Stiles hates himself for being upset because he knows none of this is real. He and Derek are not a real couple. It’s an act, but it’s an act he bought into because a part of him forgot exactly what he was dealing with. 

Stiles doesn’t even have to ask if what Vivian was saying is true. The truth is written all over Derek’s face. He hates himself for caring because it’s none of his business. Derek is free to sleep with whomever he wants to sleep with. Hell, even if they were together for real, Stiles’ has no right to be upset about who Derek hooked up with before he came along. But even though he knows this, it doesn’t make him feel any better. 

It makes sense in a way though, Stiles thinks as he takes in the other man. With his bad boy looks, his fame, his money, there is no way Derek was _not_ sleeping around this whole time. Stiles is the first one to admit that Derek Hale is a very private person, and this is probably not something he would share with the pack. It’s frankly no one’s business. Besides, a one night stand does not a relationship make. Derek has no reason to broadcast his long list of conquests. 

Derek takes a step forward with hooded eyes, forcing Stiles back against the car. Between one moment and the next, Derek’s mouth is ravaging his neck, and Stiles can’t do anything other than collapse back against the cold metal, forcing down a shudder. He tilts his hips forward until they press up against Derek’s. 

He stiffens when he feels Derek’s hands tugging at the white belt.

“Relax,” Derek orders against the outer shell of his ear, before taking the lobe between his teeth and tugging down on it. 

His hands continue their ministrations with his belt, until Stiles feels it being slid out of the loops with one swift tug. He hears the buckle clang as it hits the cement floor. His eyes flutter close when Derek undoes the buttons on his pants and eases the zipper down but he forces them open again 

They stare at each other for a moment, their foreheads pressed together. Stiles breathes heavily as Derek’s fingers graze over the thin material of his boxers before he pushes them down.

Stiles barely processes this before Derek drops down onto his knees and looks up at him though his dark lashes, silently asking permission. Stiles moans and that seems like all Derek needs. 

Then, all at once, Stiles is absolutely gone, his nerves shorting out instantly as he tries to concentrate on the feeling of Derek’s hot wet mouth, his hands, his tongue, the way his breath hits his saliva-coated skin.

This, he realizes, is Derek’s way of apologizing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome.   
> Comments make my day, so let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles is seething with rage.

His fingers tighten around the steering wheel of the borrowed car as his foot presses down on the gas the second he hits the freeway. 

The dashboard clock tells him that it’s around two in the morning as he flies down the road going twenty over the limit. 

The event with Derek had been a disaster. It started with Vivian and ended with an unwanted sexual favour. Stiles sighs audibly in the silence of Allison’s car. It wasn’t unwanted exactly, but it made him feel like shit either way. It wasn’t Derek Hale giving him a blowjob because he wanted to, it felt much more like a back alley business arrangement, where it was strictly for his own benefit, and reluctant on Derek’s part. 

Stiles feels dirty and used, and at this particular moment, he just wants to be anywhere but in Los Angeles near the man who made him feel this way.

* * * * * *

He pulls up into the driveway of his childhood home in the city of Beacon Hills a few hours later. The cruiser isn’t parked out front which means that his dad is probably out working late again.

The house is silent and empty, but it feels like home. He leaves a note for his dad on the kitchen counter before heading upstairs to sleep. It’s been a long night, and he’s kind of ready to forget it all for a while. 

Stiles feels like he’s only slept for minutes before he hears whispers coming from outside of his bedroom door. He lifts his head off his pillow to try and make out what they are saying to no avail.

“You might as well come in,” Stiles says warily, “I can hear you standing out there.”

The whispering ceases immediately, and Stiles rolls his eyes. He glances at the clock to his left which tells him it’s one in the afternoon.

The door finally swings open and the sheriff steps in, uniform still on, though the gun has been removed from the holster. Unsurprisingly, Melissa McCall walks in behind him looking a little sheepish. Stiles narrows his eyes at them, almost 99% sure that something is going on between them. Something _adult_. He shudders at the thought. Not because he doesn’t want them to be happy and all, but _it’s his dad and his best friend’s mom_. 

“Stiles,” the sheriff says gravely, “I’m really disappointed in you.”

Stiles sits up on the bed suddenly, because what the fuck? 

“I thought you were smarter than that,” the sheriff continues, not looking Stiles in the eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asks, utterly bewildered.

The sheriff frowns for a second, and finally meets Stiles’ eye for the first time since he entered the room, “Why are you home?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles mumbles, looking out the window, which then reminds him of Derek, “Derek and I...I just needed to get out of LA for a few days.”

Melissa looks over at the sheriff, looking suddenly alarmed, “I don’t think he knows.”

“Knows what?” Stiles asks, sounding frustrated.

“Were you at a party last night with Derek?” Melissa asks kindly.

“Yes...” Stiles answers cautiously. 

“There is no easy way to say this,” Melissa says softly as she hands him the tablet she’s been clutching in her hands this whole time. 

“We’ll be downstairs when you’re ready to talk,” his father says in a forced voice.

* * * * * *

It’s everywhere.

Stiles’ hands are shaking so badly that he drops the tablet on the ground. His breath catches in his throat restricting his airways. He can’t breathe. 

“Stiles!” John Stilinski shouts, running into the room. “Hey, Stiles, look at me. You’re okay.”

Melissa comes in after him and she had her serious face on. “He’s having a panic attack.”

Stiles barely hears her over the blood rushing through his brain. His thoughts are running a mile a minute. 

It’s everywhere. Everyone knows. Everyone has seen it. He feels disgusting, his skin becomes something he wants to claw off and more than anything he feels violated and betrayed. 

A security video from the parking garage featuring a deeply personal and private moment is now splattered on the web for everyone’s prying eyes to see. 

The blind panic hits him so hard he falls down. He can feel his dad and Melissa grabbing on to him. Calling to him, but their words don’t make sense. He can see the darkness clouding his vision and for the first time in years, he succumbs to it, allowing his world to fade into black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry about the huge 3-4 month wait between the chapters, and you probably hate me for making you wait this long, only to give you the shortest chapter in the history of chapters. 
> 
> Also, since I don't have a beta for the moment, this chapter is unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own, and if you find any, just let me know and I'll fix them asap. 
> 
> Hopefully a few of you are still here and reading. :)


	11. Chapter 11

When Stiles comes through, he finds Scott’s beaming face a mere inches from his own. He gasps and pushes backwards, taken by surprise.

“Scott,” Stiles rasps, his hand clutching his chest, his heart speeding, “What have we said about personal space?”

“Sorry,” Scott says sheepishly, moving his face away slightly, “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

“How long have I been out?” he asks, noticing that the light outside his window has dimmed, indicating that it’s either evening or early morning.

“Just a few hours. My mom gave you some sedatives to keep you sleeping for a bit. I got here as soon as I could.” Scott’s smile fades slightly, and he starts nervously playing with the watch on his wrist. He looks back up at Stiles, “How do you feel?”

“Cottony,” Stiles responds making grabby hands at the pitcher of water sitting on his desk, just out of his reach. Scott gets the hint and pours him a cup.

Stiles gulps it down greedily. It relieves the dry, itchy feeling in his throat. He’s still not quite prepared to deal with the _other_ situation just yet.

* * * * *

“Derek,” Erica says in a stricken voice.

“Hmm?” Derek replies as he leans casually against the side of the house.

“Did you...did you do _that?_ ” Erica asks.

“Yep,” Derek responds looking at his handiwork.

“You,” Erica pauses to gather her words, “You uprooted a tree. With your bare hands.”

It’s no easy feat either, Derek thinks, considering the tree is, well _was,_ a good 40 feet tall and roughly 15 inches in diameter. Peter had convinced him that this was much healthier than uprooting the heads off the bodies of every single person in this city involved in the _incident_.

“How’s Stiles?” Derek asks pushing away from the house, meeting the horrified gaze of Erica.

“Scott said that he’s awake, but he isn’t talking about it.”

Derek clenches his jaw, his hands folding into fists. Peter told him to lay low, and that’s what he’s trying to do. Meanwhile, Isaac, Boyd and Allison are talking to their friends in security to see if they can figure out who released the video. Danny is trying to trace the video back electronically. So far nothing.

Derek walks past Erica towards the garage at the side of the house.

“Where you going?” Erica asks, looking as if she already knows the answer.

“To see Stiles,” Derek answers as he turns the corner. He notices the paparazzi parked outside his driveway but he doesn’t care. 

“Tell them to move,” he barks at Erica, “Or I will take great pleasure in running them over.”

He hops into the Reventon and revs the engine. He pulls out of the garage a few seconds later. He’s not sure what Erica has said to them, but they’re staying out of his way. The gates open and he pulls out, paying no attention to flashing bulbs or the speed limit.

* * * * *

Stiles lays on his bed eating Melissa’s homemade muffins, trying very hard to avoid his computer, tv and radio. The book in his lap isn’t making a very good distraction either.

Scott is sprawled out in Stiles’ computer chair, taping away on his phone. Stiles would bet a hundred bucks that he’s in the middle of a dirty text conversation with Allison based on the flush of Scott’s cheeks.

He makes it another five pages in his book before Scott has jumped out of his chair, and his facing the window. His head is tiled in a way that he can hear more clearly.

“Derek.” Scott murmurs, but it’s loud enough that Stiles can hear it. He flails out of bed, landing as a heap on the ground.

“Derek what?” Stiles asks, already know the answer but praying to every deity in existence that he’s wrong.

Before Scott can answer, Derek is there on the other side of the second floor window, pushing it up and sliding his body through the narrow opening.

“Hey, Scott, can you wait outside,” Derek says in the form of a statement, not a question.

Scott looks between the two like a deer in headlights. He waits for Stiles’ slight nod before he walks out the door.

Stiles looks awkwardly at Derek who looks awkwardly back. He distracts himself by getting up off the floor and sitting back down on his bed

“It’s my fault,” Derek sighs as he also sinks down onto the corner of the bed, staying out of Stiles’ reach.

“Yeah, it absolutely is,” Stiles agrees whole-heartedly. “Why can’t you just say sorry like a normal person?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek apologizes, his head in his hands. He sounds tired.

Stiles just stares at him. He wasn’t expecting that. He was pretty sure he would have to fight an apology out of Derek.

Derek laughs a humourless laugh, “Ten years later and I still fuck up everything good in my life.”

 “I may have over reacted about the Vivian thing,” Stiles offers, because he can’t bear to watch Derek once again pile all the blame on himself. He crawls forward on the bed, enough so that he can put a hand on Derek’s shoulder in what he hopes is a comforting manner.

“This is why I didn’t want to be in a relationship in the first place,” Derek continues, “I can handle destroying my own life, but I didn’t want to destroy yours.”

“You didn’t,” Stiles says softly.

Derek looks up at glare at him, because, well the evidence does seem to point in the other direction.

“Okay, fine, this is less than ideal. I never wanted to have a sex tape like thingy out in the public, and I mean it could potentially ruin any opportunity I ever have at getting a job...this isn’t helping is it?” Stiles asks sheepishly.

Derek looks beyond horrified.

“What I’m trying to say is that it has happened. We need to move past it because we can’t take it back,” Stiles says finally.

“Maybe we should just end things now,” Derek replies, “Before I can destroy your life more permanently.”

“That’s not how Hollywood works,” Stiles says, “If we break up, it would just call more attention to the video. We need to do the opposite of break up. We need to be happy and together.”

“So what do you propose?” Derek asks sarcastically, “Shall we just take some _selfies_ and post them onto twitter to show how _happy and together_ we are?”

Stiles get’s a look in his eyes that Derek knows all too well.

“Stiles, I was kidding,” Derek exclaims, completely bewildered by the way Stiles’ brain seems to work.

“No, that’s exactly what we should do,” Stiles explains as he reaches over to his side table to grab his phone. He scuttles back over to Derek and instructs him to smile while holding the phone an arms length away.

“Stiles,” Derek protests through gritted teeth.

“Less mass-murderly, Derek,” Stiles instructs.

Derek rolls his eyes but complies, even though the last thing he wants to do is smile.

Stiles goes through the pictures and picks his favourite. He adds a filter to it, and then texts the picture to Erica, since she handles all of Derek’s social media accounts. He gives her explicit instructions to just tweet the picture from Derek’s verified account. No text, no hash tags. Just the picture.

“You and I, Derek, have a lot to figure out,” Stiles says finally, “But that’s between us. Not us and the public.”

Scott stumbles in a few minutes later looking dazed. He glances at Stiles, “Did you know our parents are making out in the kitchen?”

* * * * *

 

      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two months wait is better than four months right?  
> This chapter is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. If you find any, just let me know and I'll fix them.


	12. Chapter 12

Stiles was wrong. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. The story about Derek and him has spread like wildfire and it’s bigger than ever. He sighs as he leans back in his desk chair. Tonight is the premiere of Derek’s dumb Vampire flick and he knows that it’s going to be hectic. 

He can already hear the paparazzi outside of the small apartment he shares with Scott and Allison. The two of them are supposed to be getting dressed for the evening, but the sounds coming through the thin walls tell a different story. He huffs as he stands up and grabs the tailored suit off his bed. He’s really dreading the event. 

He’s only partially dressed when his bedroom door opens, and Derek is standing there wearing a pair of very form fitting jeans and his signature leather jacket that does certain things to certain parts of Stiles’ anatomy. Derek’s eyes travel slowly over his form, making Stiles very aware of his partially nude state. He makes a move to finish buttoning up his pants before he reaches for the white button up shirt.

“I spoke with Erica,” Derek says softly, dragging his eyes away from Stiles’ torso, turning their full force onto his face. 

“What’s the latest?” Stiles asks trying to ignore the underlying tension that has settled in the room between them. 

“Apparently,” Derek drawls lazily, “Quite a few people have begun to think that this was some sort of publicity stunt. To garner attention for Vampire Rising 2.”

This is not surprising to Stiles considering he’s done his own research on the matter after watching the video over again enough times to desensitize himself to it. He’s been on the blogs and gossip sites; he knows what people are saying. 

He just nods at Derek. He slides his arms through the long sleeves of the shirt, stopping to button up the cuffs. Anything to avoid looking at the man in front of him. 

“So, is that what you’re wearing?” he asks, breaking the silence. 

Derek doesn’t answer, he just prowls forward until the gap between them is almost nonexistent. Stiles swallows. Hard. 

“I know you think,” Derek says as he tugs on the open flaps of Stiles’ shirt, “that I’m doing this for all the wrong reasons, but I can promise you I’m not. I’m doing this because I want to. More than anything.”

Stiles doesn’t get a chance to respond before Derek’s lips are on his own. The kiss takes him by surprise, but his lips react before he can tell them not to. He unconsciously moves forward until his bare chest his flush against Derek’s. He can feel the heat through the Henley Derek wears under his leather jacket. 

The kiss turns up a notch as Derek nips at his bottom lip, tugging it gently before letting go with a devilish smirk. Stiles retaliates, closing the distance between their mouths once again, letting his tongue graze the other man’s bottom lip. Derek shudders under his hands which causes Stiles’ mouth to quirk upwards even as they kiss. 

His subconscious is shouting about what a stupid idea this is, but Derek’s kisses effectively drown that little voice out pretty quickly.

Derek pauses to look down at him, his breath coming out hard despite his supernatural level of stamina. “Are you...is this okay?”

Stiles nods his head because this is everything he’s wanted but has been to afraid to really say. Just him and Derek without the cameras, the media, hell even the rest of the pack (minus the fact that Scott and Allison are banging one room over). This isn’t an act or an apology. This is real. 

His hand goes straight for Derek’s hair, tugging at it gently. His other arm is clutching onto the leather jacket for dear life, keeping Derek close as humanly possible. He shivers as one of Derek’s hands make quick work of the pants he just put on minutes before. They stare at each other, neither daring to look away from the intensity of the others gaze. This is happening.

Stiles has never been known for his patience, so it isn’t the least bit surprising that he breaks first, leaning in to capture Derek’s deceptively soft lips with his own once more. The kiss is hard and rough and everything that Stiles never knew he wanted up until this exact moment. He groans as Derek spins them around, walking him backwards until his back hits the wall. He breaks the kiss long enough to take off his shirt. He frowns when he notices that Derek is still way too overdressed for the occasion. Luckily Derek get the hint and quickly joins him in a state of partial nudity, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. Stiles reinstates their kiss, but he keeps getting distracted by the feel of Derek’s warm body beneath his hands. 

“That is just not fair,” He breathes out after pulling away from the kiss to stare at the perfection that is Derek Hale in the flesh.

“Stiles,” Derek huffs, “Shut up.”

“Oh bossy are we. Is that like something that gets you off ? All hot and bothe—” Derek kisses him in order to shut him up. It works.

For about five seconds.

“Umph,” Stiles mutters pulling his mouth free again which causes Derek to roll his eyes so hard that they are in danger of literally rolling right out of his head. 

“I’m enjoying this, I am,” Stiles continues freely now because Derek, the quick study he is, has given up on kissing him on the lips and is now focusing all his attention on Stiles’ neck, which feel amazing. “But I don’t know if I want our first time to be up against the wall. Our second time maybe, third time for sure, but not the first.”

“Do you seriously talk this much during foreplay?” Derek deadpans.

“You should hear the conversations I have during the actual act of sex,” Stiles replies with a wink. Derek tries to look unamused by it all, but Stiles swears he just saw Derek’s lips twitch slightly. 

“Fine,” Derek signs finally, pulling his body completely away, which was not what Stiles had in mind. He makes grabby hands at the other boy, but Derek ignores them in favour of pulling his jeans back on. “If you don’t want the first time to be up against the wall, then we’ll have to postpone. We have a premiere to get to soon.”

“What?” Stiles asks, looking devastated by the turn of events, “Dude, I just wanted to move it over to the bed, not stop it completely. I change my mind, let’s just do it now. Here.”

“No, you were right,” Derek announces as he finishes putting on the last of his clothes, “You deserve something special. I’m going to give it to you. Just not right at this moment.”

Stiles watches Derek smooth out the front of his shirt before tugging the leather jacket over it and moving for the bedroom door. 

“Where you going?” Stiles questions, still leaning against the wall in nothing but his underwear, “We have premiere to attend.”

“I have some stuff to arrange,” Derek explains, “I’ll meet you at the venue before we have to walk the carpet. Get dressed and head over there with Scott and Allison.”

With one last tilt of the head, he’s gone, leaving Stiles standing in his room feeling very sexually frustrated. The rapid sound of squeaky springs coming from the room over isn’t helping the situation much either.


	13. Chapter 13

“Stop it,” Allison says gently putting a hand on Stiles’ to stop his constant fidgeting. The limo that Derek rented out for Stiles, Scott and Allison is slowly inching its way through traffic on its way to the rendezvous point. Tonight is going to break him, Stiles is sure of it.

“We’re almost there,” Scott states from his spot on Allison’s other side. The two of them make quite the striking couple dressed up in their finest. Scott looks quite dashing in his black suit, his dark blue tie matching the gauzy cut-out dress that Allison dons for the occasion. The two of them will probably steal the show tonight. Stiles is willing to bet his left arm that one of the two will leave this party with offers to act or model or something.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Stiles mutters as the limo stops at what appears to be a back entrance. He spots Derek’s ridiculously fancy car idling a few feet away. The dark thoughts are back to the forefront of his mind. He thought he could do this, but the thought of being in front of the cameras again, knowing that there are people out there who will stop at nothing to get the scoop and make a profit off of it are lurking around. 

He wishes there was a way he could be with Derek but without all the other strings that come attached to him. He wants a life where he doesn’t have to worry about cameras and premieres. He wants a quiet life, just the two of them hanging out, being normal. Nothing about this is normal, and he’s not sure he can do this much longer. 

“Stiles,” Scott says, moving to crouch in front of him, his serious face on. Gone is the adorable dimpled smile that he wears regularly. It is in that moment that Stiles realizes that he has been vocalizing his thoughts out loud to Allison and Scott this whole time. 

“I love you man, which is why I need you to not fuck this up.” 

Stiles is taken aback by the bluntness of Scott’s words, and he opens his mouth to rebut the statement but nothing comes out.

“You love him,” Scott continues, “You’ve loved him for a while. I’m your best friend. I know this. He loves you too, because Derek is kind of an open book once you learn how to read him. The situation that happened was unfortunate, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let my best friend let the best thing that has ever happened to him slip away this easily because of some stupid people wanting to exploit you two. You need him, and he really needs you. But there is only so much I can do to make you see this, so you’re going to need to work out the rest for yourself. This is who Derek is. You need to ask yourself if you're willing to make some hard sacrifices in order to be with him.” 

Scott gives him a gentle pat on the shoulder before giving Stiles the dimpled smile he’s so used to seeing on the other man’s face. 

Stiles opens the door and slowly steps out. Scott's words are running through his head. He’s trying to work out his thoughts on the short walk over to Derek’s car, knowing that all logic will most likely fly out the window as soon as he lays his eyes on the other man. 

He lifts the door open and slides in ungracefully. Derek is watching his carefully, but he doesn’t speak, realizing that Stiles is having a moment and that it is just best to leave him to it. 

The car pulls out of the back alley way and onto the main road, the limo Scott and Allison are in following behind them. The theatre the Vampire Rising 2 premiere is only two blocks down and Stiles knows that he doesn’t have much time to have this conversation but he has no other choice. It needs to happen now. “I can’t be your pretend boyfriend anymore,” Stiles blurts out. 

Derek’s hands grip the wheel tighter but that is the only reaction he gives to those words. Stiles looks over nervously, waiting for a response. 

“I understand,” Derek says simply, but the devastation is not as clearly hidden as Derek intends it to be. “I’m sorry that you were dragged into this mess in the first place. You are under no obligation to continue this. I will have Erica notify the media about our break up and that should be the end of it for you.” 

“No, Derek,” Stiles says loudly, shifting his body to look at the other man, “You completely misunderstood what I was trying to say, which in hindsight makes sense because I don’t think I could have constructed a worse sentence to start this conversation than the one I chose.” 

Derek looks over at him confused, but his grip on the wheel lessens just slightly. Stiles can see the glimmer of hope that Derek is trying in vain to keep hidden. 

“I don’t want to be in a _pretend_ relationship with you,” Stiles starts, emphasising the word pretend. “I want the real thing.”

“Oh,” Derek deadpans. Stiles kind of wants to strangle him. He’s just made this massive declaration of love and the only thing Derek has to say in response is _oh_. No, _I love you, Stiles_ , no _I’ve been dreaming about this moment my whole life, you’re the greatest person to have ever existed_ , just _oh_.

The car comes to a stop at the lights, and Derek put it in park. Stiles is about to ask him why he did that, when Derek’s mouth is on his own in a kiss that is so mind-blowing and tender that Stiles literally purrs into Derek’s mouth. They don’t stop until the cars behind them start honking their horns, tearing them apart. Stiles can’t help the giddy feeling filling up his chest as Derek puts the car into drive and speeds forward.

“There are some rules though,” Stiles says once they are on their way. The theatre is just a few miles ahead but the line up of cars is massive. Derek pulls his in behind a sleek black jag before turning his attention fully onto Stiles.

“What kind of rules?” Derek asks, his brows pulling down slightly into a frown.

“I’m not a PR stunt, Derek, and I don’t want to be one anymore. I want us to have real relationship, a private one. A sacred one. Not one to be paraded around the cameras in order to get seen or any of this crap,” Stiles replies resolutely, bracing himself for an argument.

“Okay,” Derek agrees easily. Stiles just stares at him, “I don’t want to share you, Stiles. I’ll make Erica, and Peter back off. I promise.”

“You should probably take me on a real date or something too,” Stiles throws out there half joking.

“Where would you like to go?” Derek asks with a grin that gives Stiles tingly feelings in all the right places. 

“Hmm, you know, I’ve always wanted to go on one of those romantic horseback rides on a white sand beach,” Stiles jokes. Derek lets out a real laugh, his eyes crinkling in mirth and it’s pretty much the best sound that Stiles has ever heard.

* * * * *

The premiere goes off without a hitch. Derek and Stiles hold hands the entire time they are on the red carpet, and even the reporters seem to notice the relaxed smiles and obvious togetherness the two of them seem to be exuding.

Stiles notices Vivian glaring daggers at him from across the carpet, so Stiles does the only logical thing he can think of. He pulls Derek in for a kiss right then and there, and once they pull apart, Vivian is nowhere in sight. The reporters are having a field day, and Stiles realizes that he just went against his own rule, but Derek is enough of a gentleman not to bring it up. Yet.

“That rule starts tomorrow,” Stiles whispers low enough that no one but Derek hears it.

“Whatever you say,” Derek replies wrapping his arm around Stiles waist and pulling him forward on the carpet.

 

* * * * *

Derek takes Stiles back to the house, which is surprisingly empty. Stiles is pretty sure that Derek told everyone to make themselves scarce and they’ve seemed to have taken their Alpha’s word to heart.

It’s nothing like Stiles fantasizes it will be. It’s so much better. 

The moonlight streams its way into the bedroom illuminating it just enough for them to see each others outlines momentarily before they wind themselves together becoming two halves of whole, working each other into a dizzy, nipping, licking and biting their way around the others bodies until the buildup is so intense that they forget their own names.

Stiles can do nothing more than thrust his hips into the bed as Derek works him up from behind until stars erupt in front of his eyes, Derek coaxing the orgasm out of his body with a sinful slowness that has Stiles mumbling Derek’s name over and over again like a mantra.

It’s really only the beginning for them.

* * * * *

A couple months later, Stiles finds himself in Miami, accompanying Derek to his weeklong movie shoot on location. 

The movie is a drama, something Derek hasn’t done much of. It isn’t without a lot of prompting from Stiles for him to have auditioned for the role of Kyle Parker in the first place. He never thought he would have gotten the part, he just never played this type of character before. He was the Hollywood bad boy, and things like that don’t change easily. 

He does it mostly to just humour Stiles, but here he is, in the leading role.

“Where are you taking me?” Stiles asks on the only day Derek has off that week. He is blindfolded with nothing but Derek’s hand tugging him forward.

“It’s a surprise,” Derek replies gruffly. Stiles huffs in response, it’s not his fault that he is terrible with surprises. The anticipation is just about to kill him. “You can take the blindfold off.” 

Stiles whips it off and just kind of stares at the scene before him, and then back at a smirking Derek. 

“What the hell is this?” Stiles asks horrified. 

Derek’s smirk widens, “You were the one who said you wanted to take a romantic horseback ride on the beach.” 

Stiles gapes at the two pristine white horses in front of him and then back at Derek’s stupid smug face.

“I was joking!” Stiles exclaims his limbs flailing around with a mind of their own, “I hate horses.” 

“I know,” Derek says cockily. He walks up to one of the saddled horses and swings himself up and over, making it look easy and sexy. Stiles hates him just a little bit right now.

He slowly walks up to his own horse. It takes him a good six minutes to get up into the saddle, after various failed attempts that Stiles swears almost kill him. Derek sometimes wonders if Stiles should have been the actor in the relationship. He certainly has the dramatics for it.

Stiles swears up and down the whole ride as he bounces up and down awkwardly in the saddle. Derek, of course, looks as if he’s done this every day of his life.

After the ride, they end up having sex on the private, secluded stretch of beach Derek had obtained for them through some not so legal means. The sex is great as always, but Stiles never plans on having sex on a beach ever again. He has sand in places where he wasn’t even aware sand could travel. He’s washing it out of his hair for _days_.

* * * * *

Stiles and Derek end up spending their one and a half year anniversary in Beacon Hills celebrating the union of the Sheriff and Melissa McCall. 

Stiles and Scott spend the night drunkenly celebrating their newly established brotherhood while Derek and Allison watched on with amused looks.

It’s also the night that Scott pulls out his own engagement ring and gets down on one knee in the middle of the dance floor and asks Allison to be his wife.

She says yes. 

* * * * *

Stiles is more nervous than he has any right to be. Derek can feel it radiating off of him and he rolls his eyes. 

“Relax, Stiles, it’s no big deal.” 

Stiles just stares at him, all wide eyes. If Derek didn’t have werewolf strength, he’s pretty sure he would probably feel a sting from where Stiles is digging his nails into his hand. 

“And the Oscar for best supporting Actor goes to...Derek Hale for his role of Gage Carter in Fallen Redemption.”

Derek carefully pries Stiles’ hand off of his own before giving the slightly shell-shocked boy a chaste kiss on the lips, keeping within their rules of keeping PDA to a minimum in front of the cameras.

He walks slowly up the stairs to polite applause. He shakes hands with two relatively famous actors he can’t remember the names of (because some things really don’t change) who hand him his Oscar.

“Thank you,” Derek says when the audience quiets down. He does the usual thanks yous, the ones to the production company, fellow cast and crew and the personal shout outs: Erica, Peter, Boyd, Isaac, Lydia, Danny, Jackson, Allison and Scott.

“Mostly I want to thank Stiles,” he pauses to catch the other man’s eye in the audience. “This was never your dream, and this was never the life you wanted to live, but you always believed in me. You believed in me when I could barely believe in myself. I would never have gotten this award if you hadn’t pushed me into dealing with my issues head on. All of this would be meaningless if I didn’t have you by my side to share it with. So thank you. I love you.”

FIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has read, commented or gave kudos to this story. It's taken me two years, but I finally finished it. I hope the conclusion is satisfying enough for you. It was weird writing this chapter after such a long hiatus, and noticing that most of the characters featured in this fic are no longer on the show anymore. This last chapter is unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own. Feel free to point any glaring ones out, and I'll fix them up asap.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts on how you feel about this last chapter! xx


	14. Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be surprised if any of my original readers actually see this/read it. Please let me explain before you read on. I started this fic in 2013, when I was well obsessed with Teen Wolf. As the show changed, my interest waned but I didn't want to leave this story incomplete. 
> 
> I forced myself to write the last few chapter and abruptly ended the fic in 2015. However, ever since then, something has nagged at me. I always felt like I didn't fully address one particular aspect of the story in the way I would have liked, due to rushing to finish it. 
> 
> As time went on, I became more uncomfortable with how I kind of glossed over that aspect, and I knew that eventually, I would have to write this extra chapter, to make up for what I should have done the first time around. So now in 2017, I can say that I finally did.

It never got old, this lifestyle.

Even after all this time, Stiles still find himself in utter awe of the way things have panned out for him.

A prime example of this would be that he’s currently sitting on some sand in the middle of the Sahara fucking desert, under an umbrella some aide has set up specifically for his comfort. Stiles looks up from his book when he hears the director call out a loud ‘Action!’ over the megaphone. Derek springs up into action, jumping straight back into the intensely choreographed fight scene.

Derek Hale, the bane of his existence, and the love of his life.

Well, one of them at least.

Stiles looks over at the little freckled face, red-head beside him. Georgie. She’s six, going on 26 as far as Stiles is concerned. She beams up at him when she notices him watching. Stiles grins back, giving her hair a little ruffle, shaking a few strands loose from her messy French braid. She’s currently in her French stage. Stiles is willing to roll with it, even though he does have to tell her a few white lies to convince her that, yes, the broccoli she is eating _is in fact_ , French broccoli (it is not).

Stiles and Derek adopted Georgie three years ago, after fostering her for a year prior to that. Georgie has been through a lot in her little life, and Stiles and Derek agree that they want to give her a happy, healthy childhood, even if it may be a bit unconventional (i.e chilling on film sets in the Sahara).

He runs his fingers through the sand, absentmindedly tracing patterns, watching the production of Derek’s latest action movie in full swing. His lips quirk up when he sees Derek’s co-star and love interest making her way over to her mark to start filming her bit. The poor girl can’t help but make heart eyes every time she looks at Derek, not that Stiles can blame her. He’s pretty sure he makes the same dopey expression whenever Derek is around as well.

Stiles’ phone buzzes. It’s a text from Erica, curt and to the point:

_‘It’s trending again.’_

Stiles grimaces as he shoots back a quick text. He appreciates that Erica, despite running her own PR company now, is still looking out for him and Derek. She always waves him away when he mentions it, saying that they will always be her first priority. He’s thankful that he still has his friends by his side. It makes things like this easier.

The ‘it’ that Erica is referring to in her text is the infamous parking garage video. It’s been years since that video first broke the internet, and Stiles and Derek had dealt with it as best as they could, refusing the acknowledge it and just move on with their lives. People got bored after a while, and it faded away like most things on the internet do. Unfortunately, it also has a tendency of popping up again, making itself relevant for a couple of weeks at a time, and apparently, now is one of those times.

To say that it doesn’t still affect him is a lie. He’s woken up a countless number of times, in a cold sweat, shaking to the bone, feeling manic. He’s had more than one panic attack after unexpectedly stumbling across the video while browsing. He finds himself struggling to show any type of affection towards Derek in a public setting unless he’s had time to amp himself up first. He can’t help the flash a shame that overcomes him when some malicious stranger taunts him over the internet or in person, solely to get him to react.

It shatters his heart to think that gorgeous little human beside him, a kid he loves more than he ever thought possible, may one day have to face the same abuse he does, maybe even worse, simply because she is theirs. He knows it will be one of the hardest things he’ll ever have to do, when him and Derek sit her down and explain to her what happened to them, and answer any questions she may have. He glances over at her again, where she has happily buried her lower half into the sand. She’s resilient as fuck, very Derek like in attitude. She’ll probably deal with infinitely better than Stiles has.

But Stiles knows that he has. Despite it all, he has dealt with what happened to him, and he has worked to make peace with that fact. He’s talked to Derek about it at length, venting, screaming and crying when it felt like an anchor pulling him down, threatening to drown him, and he still has monthly chats with his therapist, though lately the conversations revolve around his fear as a parent more than anything else.

It’s clear that as long as Derek is relevant in this industry, that video will be as well. As it currently stands, there are very few people more relevant than Derek Hale. It’s something that Stiles has long accepted.

He doesn’t know if the feelings associated with the incident will ever go away, but he knows that with time, it has slowly gotten a little bit easier to move on from. It’s gotten a little easier to breathe and a little easier to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the note at the beginning, I suggest going back to read it so you know why this chapter exists.  
> Thanks to anyone who does manage to actually read this.


End file.
